Funny Games III
by Cloud Green
Summary: Months after the horror which befell the step brothers, Kurt is still missing with Blaine. As Finn exhausts all avenues to find him - even going as far as requesting the help of the man who haunts his nightmares - Kurt is suffering his own torture as Blaine drives him to breaking point. But Blaine has ideas, and those ideas might just be the death of Kurt Hummel. Dark!Blaine
1. Was It Worth It

A.N. And so it begins. I've been looking forward to writing the third (and final) part of this story since the second ended. The trouble was I wanted to do something radically different to before since the first two were very similar. At long last, I thought of a plot and I've been trying to piece together how it will work. I'd love it to become like a jigsaw all coming together in the end but – let's be honest – I'll be lucky if I give a somewhat sensible conclusion. I've had a lot of fun writing other stuff, like some Kurtbastian, ficlets, even now I'm trying out some hero romance, but my heart belongs to dark!Klaine.

Info on the story: this takes place months after the ending of Funny Games II. There's a brief summery in the chapter but please ask if you aren't satisfied with it. This will be different in the sense Blaine now has Kurt alone and he has big, _big_ plans for him which is essentially the story. I've had requests to strengthen Kurt into a true fighter and so I'm trying to accommodate that, just maybe not in the way you would have liked...sorry! Finn and Sebastian will be present too but, again, dynamics have changed. One of the story's characters will have a major progression and another will deteriorate. Can you guess who is who? My goal is to come full circle and (finally!) explore Blaine's past as well in keeping with his elusive nature. One final thing: if, along the way, you have an idea of what you would like to see then let me know. I got a handful of scene ideas for Funny Games II and I managed to use nearly all of them.

To thank everyone who has been showing interest in support, I'd be dissolving into gratuitous mush so I just wanted to tell DarrenCrissCat11 that when I got your review saying your birthday was on April 11th and that you would have liked something Funny Games related, I viewed it as a personal challenge. You see, nothing had been written. I hadn't planned on uploading until later because I thought I should plot out future chapters better before committing. But then I thought 'My birthday is the 16th of April, and I would flip out in delight if my favourite stories were updated – if she is half as excited as I am about fics being added then I want to meet the deadline of her birthday'. So I should thank you for giving me the motivation to actually start! Also, if authors that I follow are reading this...my birthday is on Thursday so...updates please? Teehee

Warnings: ...Gore. Lots of it. Sex. Lots of it. Foul language. Lots of- you get the idea. As with before, mental/emotional/physical torture. This is probably going to be a lot more violent than previous fics and the reason for that will be explained in chapter 2. If that makes you nervous then do not read. I'm not here to upset, I'm here to entertain with story ideas. Also, if general UK English spellings offend you then go read something less offensive. ;)

Disclaimer: I do not own Glee, Funny Games, or anything related to it. All I'm doing is merging the two together and forming a very OOC plot.

**IF YOU HAVE NOT READ FUNNY GAMES I AND II, PLEASE GO READ THEM BEFORE STARTING THIS. *NOTHING* WILL MAKE SENSE IF YOU DON'T.**

* * *

Was It Worth It?

* * *

The silent night was broken by the sound of a piercing shriek.

Mrs Rodgers took off running, leaving her now-deceased husband of twelve years in the living room of their farmhouse, his body hacked into three separate pieces. She fell into the parlour in wild tears which blinded her, hearing the sickening squelches of the axe being ripped out from Mr Rodger's round and full belly. The urge to throw up hit her hard but she knew she had to get up and move. She had to escape _him_. The stranger.

The slow moving thuds on the floor told her he was coming. Tearing out into the hallway again, Mrs Rodgers shrieked again as she almost collided with the stranger. He made no move to grab her so she continued running until she hit into the staircase. The broken vase glass from earlier cut into her bare feet and she fell onto the first step.

'Allison...' The stranger tutted in disappointment. He strolled up. His looming stature frightened her to the point of her quaking uncontrollably. His deep hazel eyes gazed down as he leaned on his axe. 'I _told_ you not to turn round. I warned you, didn't I? I warned you that if you turned round, you would not like what you saw. And now look what you've done: you've stepped on the glass and you're going to get blood all over the beautiful original floorboards!'

The irony of his words seemed to be lost on him; he himself was drenched in blood and his boots had trekked thick stains right across the house. His handsome face which only an hour earlier was clean and youthfully innocent was now painted scarlet. His clothes were as prim and proper as they had been when he first arrived, a 'befuddled hiker who had lost his way in the miles of woodland forests surrounding their home', but bits of tissue and other bodily flesh gave away his horrified acts. How Mrs Rodgers could have pitied this boy and offered him a meal and a bed for the night was a torturous question she was asking herself as she feebly waved him away, pleading for him to stop. '_Please!_' She screamed in hysteria, 'Leave us alone – _Go away!'_

The unmistakable pattering of little steps upstairs caused them both to pause. The stranger, who went by the name Blaine, drew his face upwards and hummed. 'Oh yeah. I almost forgot about little Sophie. She was tucked up in bed when I got here; I haven't had the pleasure of meeting her yet.'

The prospect brought on another howl from the wife and mother. '_No!_ Have mercy on her – she's a child! A baby!' She threw her arms out wide across the stairwell as if she stood any chance of blocking his way if he chose to go up. 'She's only three – you can't touch her!'

Blaine looked on with a sympathetic frown. 'Allison, when you make broad statements like that you're only opening yourself up to being proven wrong.' His hands slid down the handle of his axe in a wistful manner. He pulled it up off the ground a few inches and then let it fall to the floor with a bang. Mrs Rodgers shook and screamed nonsensical words, her head tossing side to side with tears splashing off her. 'But I can understand that this game we're playing is new to you – that's how it's supposed to be. You're only meant to play it once.' His hand lightly patted his pants pocket where what looked like a radio of some sort poked out into view. 'The fact is you can't do anything to help Sophie right now other than simply doing as I ask. If your husband had just listened to me then his death would have been a lot cleaner, believe me-'

'You're insane!' The woman sobbed, not even able to sound accusing in her statement. It was just a fact. 'Please – leave my daughter alone. She's n-not- How can you-?'

Blaine held up his hand, shaking his head. 'Allison, please, you don't need to tell me. And to prove how much I understand, I want to offer you a generous choice. Are you listening?' Mrs Rodgers could not control her cries but Blaine was able to speak over them. He leaned in and smiled warmly. 'I'm giving you the choice. Do I kill _you_ first, or little Sophie?' The farmer's wife was hit with horrific disbelief at the question allowing two seconds of sudden silence before she wailed once more, rejecting such a choice. Blaine sighed and rolled his eyes. 'I'm playing with one man short these days, the fact I'm giving you this opportunity is very gracious of me. I hope you appreciate it.' He took a step closer and the woman plastered herself against the stairs as if it would protect her child. 'It's really straightforward. Either you offer to be killed first – in which case, I will promise to keep it all quick and as painless as possible – or you continue to argue with me and be forced to listen to the worst sounds any parent could ever hear as I do to your daughter what I just did to your husband.' As the woman tried to claw out her own eyes in despair, Blaine winced with his fingers drumming on the banister. 'And trust me – as someone who has given this choice to others before you – if I were me, I would want to go first. The alternative is worse.'

Mrs Rodgers collapsed on the hallway floor, the broken glass which hadn't already pierced her feet now cut her arms and knees. She mumbled ferociously for Blaine to change his mind, to spare her and her daughter or at least her daughter who was probably running around her little pink bedroom wondering why mommy sounded so sad. Her hands tugged helplessly at Blaine's pants. The same man who just barbarically killed her husband remained as still and as silent as a saint. There was no budging and, with nothing else to do, she eventually nodded. 'F-Fine...kill me.' She wept. 'And please...if there is a-any good in you...don't let her suffer.'

Blaine watched. He then held up his hand in oath. 'I swear, she won't.' And with that he motioned for her to stand up and head back to the living room so she could die alongside Mr Rodgers. She stood and numbly wiped off glass from her skin. She took four slow steps leading them along the hall. She didn't manage a fifth step; Blaine cheerfully swooped up his axe, twirled it in his hands, and then swung the blade into the back of her head. 

* * *

The crunch of a skull breaking was too much. Kurt felt his body go through the motions of throwing up but there was nothing left in his stomach to give. His eyes burned and stung like hell from all the crying and dry heaving he had been doing in the last hour. Fixed on the wall mere inches from his ears was a walkie-talkie. It was a top-of-the-range product, Blaine had made sure of that; every word, every movement, every breath was as clear as day and might as well have taken place in the hay barn where Kurt was currently bound in.

His ankles and wrists were tied tight and parts of his body strapped to the wall. He had questioned the excessiveness of Blaine's handiwork until he had heard the farmer's first scream when Blaine cut off his thumb in a game of 'How _Many Fingers Am I Holding Up?_' At hearing the agonising pain, Kurt had desperately tried to knock himself unconscious in order to not be forced to listen to the gore which was coming. However, that had been his method to escape the experience at the last house that had been attacked, and Blaine had been furious, vowing to not let Kurt escape it again. And he was true to his word; he had tied Kurt up so tight there was really nothing he could do but sit and listen.

Blaine wanted him to listen. He wanted him to hear the _art_ of playing his game. It was all charisma, or so Blaine wanted him to believe, there's no fun in simply storming a place. You have to earn your entrance with mastered expressions, confusing backstories and charming your soon-to-be victims into inviting you into their home. Kurt had begged him not to put him through this but his tears did nothing. Things had changed.

They had been 'on the run' for months now – Kurt couldn't be sure how many anymore – but Blaine had only just resumed his killing spree within the last two weeks. He had told Kurt he couldn't lay low any longer; his fingers were itching for action and he felt himself grow rusty. Kurt had to ask himself what had he been expecting when he had agreed to go with him. Had he thought he was doing the world a favour by sacrificing himself as Blaine's one and only victim? Did he really believe that Blaine would stop his murdering ways for him? _He loves me. That's what he believes. But his form of love is not pure and good: it is evil. I should have known he'd do this to me._

At first, Blaine kept Kurt under extreme wraps. Even with the teenager's promise that he would follow his direction and never try to undermine him, they only travelled at night. They had stayed in isolated homes like cabins or abandoned houses until the older man grew tired of the lack of comfort. He reiterated to Kurt his plan to gut his step brother if he stepped one toe out of line but then started trusting him to keep quiet as they rented motel and hotel rooms. At one point, as Blaine went through a stage of only wanting to sleep and fuck uninterrupted, they stayed in a first-class manor house for nearly three months. The large empty building only proved to make Kurt feel more alone, even when he was given the freedom to use the vast library or swim in the pool (supervised, of course), so when Blaine first mentioned moving on to somewhere else Kurt was actually relieved. However, if he had known what unthinkable mental and emotional torture Blaine planned to put him through next with listening to countless people die at the handsome raven-haired man's hands, Kurt would have clung to the manor gates for dear life.

A thud came from the barn door. Kurt's eyes widened in alarm. The walkie-talkie had gone silent after the apparent murder of Allison Rodgers but he hadn't noticed, too lost in his own turmoil. He couldn't stop his hopes from rising; could the person coming into the barn be someone who can help him? Surely Blaine hadn't enough time to go after the daughter _and_ walk the five minute back to the barn? But, sure enough, the barn door opened and a smirking, blood-drenched Blaine sauntered in. Seeing him like this and knowing why he looked the way he did almost made Kurt sick again; he was so proud of himself and his eyes sparkled like jewels under the dipping moonlight. 'Ah, you managed to stay awake this time, beautiful,' he praised him. It left a bitter taste in Kurt's mind as he would have given anything to have knocked himself out earlier. Blaine swung around his axe lazily before dropping it on a nearby hay stack. He strode up to the bound teenager and ran a hand through his rich brown locks

'You killed the girl?' Kurt's voice came out as a croak, hoarse from all the screaming he did earlier to try and drown out the walkie-talkie.

Blaine shrugged, pulling his shirt off in the process to reveal clean, golden skin. 'I looked in on her. She showed me her toys; the kid is far too trusting.' Kurt stared at him wide-eyed until Blaine sighed. 'There's no fun in killing a kid, Kurt. They don't understand any of the rules. I locked her in her bedroom-'

'She'll starve to death!' Kurt tried to yell but it came out as a strained gasp.

Blaine narrowed his eyes and calmly straddled his hips on the ground. Kurt shifted uncomfortably but knew better than to believe he could stop Blaine from doing as he wished. 'Watch your tone, Kurt.' He warned, 'I already let you away with so much, don't push your luck.'

'Please,' Kurt steeled himself to look his captor in the eye though even now the act took every ounce of willpower he had, 'don't leave her there. We can drop her in the nearest town; at least there she'll be found. Give her a fighting chance.' He knew his caring words were falling on insensitive ears so he tried to appeal to Blaine's orderly side. 'If she dies because of a lack of food and water, it'll be sloppy. That's not how you play your game. There's an art to it, right?'

A fond smile breached Blaine's face. It was a smile used for a child who was trying to trick a parent who was not falling for it. 'Nice try,' He cupped Kurt's jaw with a bloodied hand and swooped down for a kiss. His tongue ran the length of Kurt's bottom lip before he captured it with his teeth. Kurt let out a whimper of pain but couldn't move his head an inch thanks to the strap keeping him in place. The sudden metallic taste of blood which _wasn't_ his met Kurt's senses and he tried to force it out; he only succeeded in meeting Blaine's tongue with his own. Blaine moaned into him, his hands already moving to unstrap and undress his prisoner. 'I'll tell you what, baby,' he muttered, his voice low, guttural and hungry – brutal killings seemed to be an aphrodisiac to his twisted nature, 'if you ride me hard enough, I'll consider your idea. Because I want to be good to you.' He leaned his forehead on his and lightly toyed with his lip. 'I want this to work, don't you? It's all give...and take. I love you.'

The words were like a dagger in Kurt's heart.

_I love you, Kurt. _

_You are my one and only love. _

_You are my everything now. You're mine and I'm yours. You'll learn to love me back._..

Why was Kurt doing this? He asked himself that question every day, and the answer was always the same: Finn. He couldn't bear to even think his name, it hurt too much. However, he would tell himself every day that he made the right decision. If he hadn't gone with Blaine and if he hadn't been the most well-behaved kidnap victim then Finn would most likely be dead by now. Or worse. He knew what Blaine had done to people before and to think of him finally laying a hand on his brother made Kurt want to bawl and thrash about. Yet...when the screams of innocent people haunt your dreams and your 'lover' smears you with the blood of his kills every night when he fucks you raw, you cannot help but hate every morsel of your being for being in your position. He might have had one or two possible opportunities to escape, but the voice inside his head would always yell in its panicked tone to not even try. He feared Blaine too much. And if he succeeded? He would have gone back on his promise to stay with him, and Blaine would waste no time on going back on his side of the deal.

So...this was Kurt's life now. His life was to try, in vain, to block out the echoes of children crying and pleas for mercy, the crunching of bones, the gasps for air and the sickening sound of torn flesh. He would tell himself he had no choice; he couldn't live in a world where he was responsible for Finn's death. But a part of him – a part that was crouched in terror behind some mass of brain tissue – would whisper that anything had to be better than what he was living through now.

He could be forgiven for not realising that Blaine had not even begun. 

* * *

A.N. Am I right in saying this is a very tame beginning? Enjoy it while it lasts. Teasers for next chapter: Finn, sex, romance and Kurt is blown away by an insane request of Blaine's. Please review or PM with your verdict!


	2. Harder To Breathe

A.N. So, let me start off by saying how relieved I am that chapter one was pretty well received – the time away from this fic series made me nervous to return. I try to update on Fridays but new chapters for this will be sporadically at best since I'm still confused by what order events will occur in. As I said before, this final part will be different to the last – more mental and emotional, and the violence will be more often, and seen in a different light at times. If I had to describe Klaine in this, I'd say this was their last struggle against one another's true nature, both trying to win – one, for his ideal life with his 'true love', and the other for his own sanity and goodness. I've decided to keep Klaine separate from other main characters as well; most people reading this are Klainers and – though I've had readers saying they like Finn and Sebastian's parts – I think it's time we let them be uninterrupted on this last leg of the journey. Good? Bad?

Replies (Sorry, this might get long, I had a lot of questions about the fic that I should answer):

Gulnihal: I'm sorry I left you on a different page! D: But we're back. I've got your hand, let's not separate again, okay?

Guest: So you were wondering how old Blaine is – I've included some info in this chapter but I want to answer here too. I see Blaine as a guy in his mid-twenties. I say older man because he's older than Finn and Kurt but I see now that 'Older Man' could mean someone in his 40s or 50s and that would seem confusing. I'd say about 25. I'm hoping to delve into Blaine's past a little in this fic so it might come up then? Thank you for reading, so glad you like it!

DarrenCrissCat11: I read your message when I was sitting in a 30 minute traffic jam and it made all the stress and irritation go away - I laughed at the first line! So thank you very much for the happiness boost. Hope you had a great day, glad I could post it in time to give you some Klaine on your birthday. Everyone needs some Klaine on their birthday!

DarrenColfer: I think Kurt and Finn sort-of won the first round, Kurt and Blaine sort-of won the second – I do have a clear winner for the third. I'd tell you more but that would spoil the ending and I don't think you'd like me if I did that! Sebastian is temporarily back just for one reason: he will help piece together Blaine's plan for the audiences benefit. It was hard to decide whether to have him die in the second fic but I was struggling with plot points without his help. Haha – the violence in this fic will be very different to past fics! But I know you can take it – we're all a little twisted. –proud smile-

Whitegardenia: I will forgive that you did not update on my birthday so long as the next update I get from you in my e mail inbox is utterly awesome beyond fathomable belief. It always is, so I trust you.

AP: There's so many parts to this story, it might actually be longer than other ones! I don't want it to end either, but mainly because I've become so accustomed to this dark!Blaine, I don't want to start over in another new series. To answer your questions: A) I'll explore it in more detail as we go but Blaine has been treating Kurt both romantically (because he is 'in love') and roughly (because he loves controlling Kurt, and he accepts that a part of him really savours seeing him hurt). He'd probably see it as 'tough love'; he'd never let any real harm come to him but Kurt is still like a toy to him. B) Kurt ends up mating with a T-Rex and Blaine kidnaps their offspring, who eventually realise he isn't their father and eats him alive. Okay, maybe not. I won't spoil the ending here in case people don't want to know but if you're certain that you'd like to know then I can PM details to you. C) About 5/6 months have passed since the end of FG II, so dust has settled. I'm seeing Kurt as 18, though I've considered re-reading I and II to see if I can toss in Kurt having a birthday at one point. I'm so sorry about your university tests! Was this week just a really bad week or are your teachers really evil enough to do this often? I hope you can relax this weekend – you deserve it!

Shana: When I chose to keep Sebastian alive for the first part of this fic, I decided his 'wild run' ended there. So he's going to be in a prison hospital – Blaine hurt him bad – and no physical threat. But he'll hopefully ignite some hate and anger as usual with his cutting and salt-in-the-wound comments. And...just so you know...a massive amount of what you said about him is so incredibly true I wondered if you had seen my plot notes! XD I'll try Tumblr tomorrow; I haven't been on in so long, I'll need to remember which password I used. I'd love to talk to you more on there! We can talk Klaine and The Flash because I'm right there with you – OBSESSED! 

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Harder To Breathe 

* * *

Even before keying in the seven digit security code to enter his third floor apartment, Louis could hear a raised voice causing him concern. Placing the paper bags of groceries on the kitchen counter, he followed the angered tone to the living room and held back at the door.

Finn was pacing back and forth by the window, phone pressed to his ear and his knuckles were white from clutching it. 'No – no, you _promised_ you would find out and get back to me by this morning. It's already five PM and you're telling me you didn't try?' The faint sound of a female replying on the other side of the call was drowned out as Finn waved his hand around in mid air. 'I don't care if you're behind on paperwork! Detective Reed said our situation was going to be _your_ top priority. I'm chasing up every lead I can get hold of, the least you can do is follow up the solid ones that I can't. It's your job. If you don't want it then, for God's sake, pass it on to someone who'll actually do something instead of sit on their ass all day hoping I don't call to remind you that you're supposed to be trying to find my fucking _brother!_'

Louis frowned but knew better than to chide him on his cursing. Finn jabbed the telephone off and dropped it to the floor before pushing his hands against his face in despair. Louis calmly sat on the couch and gave a small sigh. 'Was that Officer Moore?' Finn didn't answer. He just bent down and took several deep breaths to cool his temper. Speaking to the woman who was assigned to them often resulted in him getting upset; Moore was adamant that every request made to her was 'outside her jurisdiction' or 'unlikely to secure anything worthwhile', and if she ever agreed to look into something they were typically in waiting for days only to discover she had promptly dropped her interest the moment she hung up the phone. With Finn running himself into the ground every second of every day chasing up possible sightings of Kurt or traces of Blaine's background, the situation could not continue like this. 'I'm going to call up Detective Reed right now.' Louis spoke with firmness. 'We've put up with her lack of care long enough.'

'It's not just her,' Finn finally replied, head deep in his hands. For an eighteen year old, he currently looked older than his years. The double trauma he had undergone and the ongoing fear for Kurt had taken its tow on him in a way Louis knew he'd never understand. 'People are losing interest in us. Media coverage is non-existent now. We're being forgotten. _Kurt_ is being forgotten. No one actually realises that the less help we have the less likely we are to ever find him again.' There was no denying the truthfulness of his words; after nearly five months the storm of goodwill and the influx of support had passed. Reports of supposed sightings were becoming rare and, with the fact that most previous reports were false and just people wanting to get in on the action, it was a strong sign that their gallop for answers was dwindling down to a forced stop. How could Finn expect to track his step brother's whereabouts on his own?

Since that last night they had been together, officials had tried shipping Finn off across the country – and, in one case, abroad – to live with blood-related family, presuming neither he nor Kurt's uncle would have wanted to stay together. Louis had still been hospitalised when he heard about it and he threw a very uncharacteristic tantrum in the middle of the intensive care unit, demanding Finn have the choice. Finn chose him. Against the grumblings of law enforcement and child services, they secured a small apartment across the street from the city's police headquarters. Three days after Louis left the hospital, Jenny's body was released and ready for burial. In the short time Jenny had acted as one of Finn's guardians, the teen had not felt a great deal of closeness for her despite her obvious efforts. However, as he grieved with Louis in private, he realised there had been so much more to her than he ever considered. Watching the older man break down numerous times each day felt like a punishment he couldn't withstand and he accepted that, as strange as it sounded, he had found a true father figure in him. Burt had stolen that role with loud ease, but Louis had slipped in undetected. His love did not replace Kurt but it meant he never had to weep alone.

'I understand,' Louis nodded slowly. His tired face still glistened with emotion. 'You have every reason to feel that way. Blaine is a mastermind and police can't find anything solid because, well, nothing solid exists. No trace is left behind.' He reached out and grasped Finn's lower arm gently. 'But one day he _will_ slip up. He's human, and in time he will make a mistake. And when he does Kurt will give us something. I know you're doubting it all, Finn, but don't. I believe it will happen. It'll just take time.'

Finn stared at him, and then lightly patted the hand on him. 'I know,' He muttered, before standing up. 'but I can't wait any longer.' He began pacing again. 'The reason no one can find them is because they haven't ever dealt with a guy like him before. They don't know him at all and that means he can dance circles around their radar. They don't know the first place to look. I know I don't. But...' He paused, highly apprehensive as he fidgeted with his fingers. 'I know someone who would.' Louis' brows furrowed in confusion. Finn continued 'We need insight into Blaine, and _he_ can give it to us.'

'Who?'

Anxious about telling him, Finn hesitated and then forced it out in a rush. 'The chief at Pennsdale called this morning; Sebastian has been transferred to a prison hospital. I can go at the end of the week.' 

* * *

_Thud – Thud – Thud!_

Eyes watering and his arms straining in agony, Kurt tried focusing on just staying upright on his hands and knees. The mattress beneath him sank deep every time Blaine's force urged him down and it was making it incredibly difficult to stay taut. It didn't help that every couple of seconds he was made to feel the thick and unrelenting length of the other man's cock as it drove into his ass. Months of this treatment and still Kurt's slender frame could not become accustomed to the fullness or the way in which it stole each breath he tried to take. Perhaps his sex-ed teachers had been wrong; maybe some people's bodies were just not developed enough to handle sex? Or maybe it was Blaine being too big? He was a monster in every other way; it wouldn't have been surprising to find out he was grotesque in dick size too.

_Try not to think about it. The more you do, the more aware of it you'll be. Don't give him the satisfaction._

'Mmm, Kurt, you're so fucking beautiful-!' Blaine moaned behind him. His hands held onto his hip and shoulder, using it as leverage to pound harder. Occasionally he would lower himself onto Kurt's back and kiss at his neck but those tender moments did not last long as his animalistic side would come hurtling back round, bringing with it a new wave of erratic thrusts from dangerous angles. The familiar red stars dotted along Kurt's vision: he had felt the beginnings of his own inner pleasure when Blaine's length lightly stroked the spot deep inside him that Kurt loathed with a passion, and in a foolish attempt to stop the warmth of physical goodness getting a rise out of his own member he had clenched his ass muscles tightly as if to stop Blaine doing it again. Of course, that never worked. In punishment, his tensed muscles were wrenched wide and yet again Blaine hit his prostate. A loud cry escaped his lips: the first sound he had made since he had been thrown on the bed. Blaine heard him and slowed his pace. 'Kurt...did that feel good, baby?' His kissing mouth returned to the teen's shoulder blades and arms wrapped around his mid-drift. 'Tell me the truth.'

'Yes-!' Kurt knew better not to lie. He hurt too but there was no denying the obvious, no matter how much he hated himself for it. Wasn't it supposed to get easier? Why hadn't he learned to block it all out?

The smug chuckle inches off his ear brought shame to his insides. 'Spread your legs wider. Get down on your elbows. I don't want to see you holding anything back, do you understand?' Kurt nodded and immediately obeyed, lowering himself to the new desired position. He hated this part. The mattress dipped and squeaked as the handsome demon of a man above him moved to stretch over his vulnerable body. It was time for the grand finale.

The first new thrust hit harder than before and Kurt's sensitive spot was battered awake. His front skimmed the bed; the tip of his own dick licked the sheets sending ripples up into his groin. His elbows gave out almost straight away but fortune was smiling on him as Blaine did not wish to stop to reprimand. Instead, Blaine decided to take advantage of the fact Kurt's frame had no where else to go and was soon pummelling him into the bed. Smacking sounds on Kurt's ass were drowned out by the new-found cries of pleasure. Blaine moved faster. The stars in Kurt's vision morphed into rays of light and his whole body seemed to want to pull up and garner some control over the crashing ecstasy he did not want.

Blaine came first. Upon proudly filling his lover's hole with his release, he reached round and teased Kurt's dick to the point of throbbing. Kurt unwillingly began rocking against him though Blaine remained still. Hating every inch of his being, Kurt squeezed his eyes shut and rolled his hips, trying to catch those fingertips lingering near his sex. He knew Blaine was enjoying watching him like this but his body had betrayed him far too many times for this to be any different. At least the man was not cruel enough to point it out vocally. At long last, he put the teen out of his misery and gave him a series of rough, twisting tugs. Kurt was spilled out onto the bedsheets, fists gripping onto the nearby blanket and his screams muffled against his pillow. He quaked as the physical effects of Blaine's handiwork made him think he was on another planet. By the time he had returned to earth, he was being cradled against the older male's chest. He was too exhausted to try turning around so he just let his face be tucked under Blaine's neck, doing his best to ignore the scent of sex and sweet musk which radiated from Blaine's skin.

_One day this will be normal. One day... One day you will not hate yourself for this._

* * *

The gushing of water from the bathroom shower finally caused Kurt to sit upright on the bed. Blaine had not asked him to join his wash, an oddity in itself, so he could only assume he was free to move around. He timidly left the bedroom and stood on the landing. At the far side of the hall was a locked door, and behind that locked door sat a four year old girl who was waiting patiently for her mommy or daddy to come get her. A dull but sickening notion swayed around in the pit of Kurt's stomach but he chose to ignore it and head downstairs. The small puddles of blood had not been cleaned up: a sign that he and Blaine would not be staying very long in this isolated farmhouse. Kurt was careful not to step in them. The two bodies of the farmer and his wife were in the living room at the other side of the house and Kurt was grateful Blaine had put them out of sight; the traces of bone and flesh were enough for his nerves right now. He focused on finding the kitchen.

He spent a couple of minutes placing food and bottled drinks into a wicker basket he found under the sink. Blaine had not yet confirmed if he was going to take the girl into town for someone to stumble across, so Kurt was preparing to leave her alone with as much as possible to increase her chances of surviving the long wait before someone else checked on the farm. The pipes continued chugging out water to the upstairs and Blaine's smooth singing voice could be heard still in the shower. Kurt closed all the cabinets and made to return upstairs. But his eyes caught sight of the back door which led out into the fenceless garden. The windows were panes of navy blue as evening had arrived. In an hour it would most likely be black outside.

_All it would take is one minute. In one minute, the girl could be in your arms and you could be running across the fields. Blaine won't be able to see you. His car wouldn't be able to follow. He'll presume you'll be heading towards town but you could go in the opposite direction and lose him completely. All you need is a phone – another human being. You could do this, Kurt._

He took one small step towards the door, his hand reaching out towards the knob.

_You won't get away. How could you even pretend for one second that you would? Blaine will always be three steps ahead of you, planning your every possible move with rewards and punishments at the ready. Don't be an idiot, Kurt. You'll get yourself killed, or worse – the little girl. And then Finn. One act of stupidity and you'll cause so much damage. You promised to obey him, remember? 'I will go with you wherever you want without a fight... No escape attempts. No double crossing. No more lies or disobedience. And I'll be there until I have, how you put it, 'run my course'.' _

The second voice in his head was not his own. At least, not completely. It was twisted and contorted, like two people saying the same thing at the same time and he couldn't help but feel that the second voice belonged to Blaine. That was impossible, he knew, but its commanding tone was enough to cause Kurt to lose breath and back away from the door to freedom. Turning from the very idea of running, he picked up the basket of provisions and kept his head down as he marched back upstairs.

The key sat safely in the padlock on the little girl's bedroom door. It gave a small click as it turned. Kurt entered. Sophie sat cross-legged in the centre of the floor. Her long, curly hair cascaded down her tiny frame like blonde spirals, some tips even touching the rug. She looked very surprised at seeing Kurt – she was most likely expecting Blaine or her parents – and she stood up. 'Hi,' She said simply. She offered up the small teddy bear that she had been rocking in her arms. 'This is Cadan the Cub.'

Every inch of Kurt burned to smile, to tuck her hair behind her ear and to take the toy and shower attention on it for the little child's pleasure – but he knew he could not. He placed the basket on the floor and began pulling out a few bananas, loaves and cartons of juice. 'Sophie, I need you to listen very carefully, okay?' He avoided looking into her big brown eyes which were still gazing up at him in wonder. 'All of this here is for you. I want you to eat only when you're really hungry because you might not get more for a while.'

'Where's mommy?'

Kurt was beginning to find it hard to breathe again. In his peripheral vision he could see her bending down to try and meet his eye-line. 'And be as quiet as a mouse.' He whispered, before rapidly exiting the room. His hands shook as he snapped the lock in place. Willing himself not to think about her – and failing in the process – he tip toed to the bedroom of the farmer. The shower had stopped running but Blaine was not out yet. Kurt climbed back into bed and lay as stiff as a board in wait.

'Would you believe they had a power shower fitted into this old building?' Blaine was towel drying his hair when he finally returned. His eyes fell on the pair of briefs Kurt had put on since he had last seen him and he frowned slightly.

'I gave the girl some food.' Kurt said quickly, still not relaxing and actively not shifting his stare from the ceiling.

Blaine considered his admission. 'I figured you would.' He dropped his towel and took his vaguely damp naked body over onto the bed. He stretched himself along the teen and positioned himself directly above his head. Kurt did not dare turn away from his eyes. 'You're too soft-hearted. I'd rather you weren't.' He said nothing more about it, leaving Kurt to desperately question what he meant. Blaine fell onto the mattress by his side and took a deep, calming breath. After several long moments of silence, he stated 'I'm hungry. Are you?' Kurt didn't answer. He had developed a fairly accurate sense of telling whether Blaine needed him to respond when he asked something, and he knew he did not need to answer. 'Did you give the kid everything in the kitchen, or did you think to leave some food for us?' Again, no answer was necessary. 'I'm starving.'

'I'm sorry.'

Blaine tilted his head in Kurt's direction. Chuckling quietly, he rose up to his feet. 'I should tell you that I'm impressed with your...resilience. It's been a long, hard day for you. Don't think I haven't noticed. I want to reward you by taking you out to dinner.'

His statement seemed like a foreign collection of words, with all the sense Kurt could make of it. Shock evident in his face, Kurt turned to him as if to gage whether he was joking or not. Blaine had never taken him out to dinner before. In fact, Blaine didn't take him into any public area unless absolutely necessary. 'What?' He shakily sat up. 'Out, as in...out?'

Blaine laughed again as he stepped into a pair of pants. 'Don't be so surprised, Kurt, I trust you.' He zipped up his fly and then took Kurt's chin in his fingers. 'I trust you'll be smart and well behaved. Besides, I'd like to have a taste of normal romance for a change. Candlelight, expensive cuisine...' He stole a deep and prolonged kiss from his lover's parted lips. 'And there's something I want to talk to you about.' 

* * *

_Tabula Rosa_ was a quaint little place in the middle of town. For an area surrounded by miles and miles of farmland, the community was fairly mainstream and its main evening restaurant was a welcome surprise. It's atmospheric dimmed lighting and slow saxophone playing in the backdrop were already being savoured by other couples by the time Kurt walked in. Blaine had held the door open and then immediately took his hand. Kurt flinched; he was not used to that type of touch. Blaine's fingers had intertwined with his before he could make an unconscious escape. He requested a table for two and led Kurt after the maître who showed them to a table near the back. Their chairs, facing one another, were alongside the window looking out onto a lantern-lit garden which admittedly looked magical in the moonlight.

Blaine pulled out a seat for his 'boyfriend'. Kurt stared at him blankly. He had known not to question Blaine's insistence for a romantic dinner and had understood that it would mean they would both need to act the part of a loved-up couple, but the gentleman act the dark haired man was sporting seemed less of a pretence and more of an attempt at real romance. Was Blaine trying to be a normal man out with his date? Kurt took the offered seat quickly to avoid gaining the suspicion of the server.

They were left with menus after a bottle of expensive champagne was ordered. Hands fumbling to open his menu and both his table and chair feeling too big for his nervous frame, it was as if Kurt had never dined out before. He tried to readjust his seat and accidently knocked his knife to the ground in the process. As he took some steadying breaths, Blaine laughed lightly. 'Even in the little things, you make me smile,' He commented, then looked around. 'This place is pretty nice, right? I mean, for a shitty, rat-infested town, at least.'

'It's really nice.' Kurt managed to agree, though as amorous as the setting was he couldn't focus on it. Oddly enough, the fact they were so secluded and separate from others was a relief; there was room for slip ups. _Don't be complacent, Kurt!_ He berated himself. His nerves did not settle. One mistake on his part – or on the part of any poor, unsuspecting individual around them – and Blaine could overreact and take the whole restaurant hostage. _And we all know how much Blaine dislikes leaving hostages alive_.

The champagne arrived and – continuing in his gentlemanly role – Blaine poured Kurt a full glass and placed it in his delicate hands. They ordered their food and at last they were alone in their private and otherwise empty area by the garden. Blaine was watching him with a curious glint in his eye and a vague smile on his lips. The silence between them might have irritated him in any other instance but right now he seemed completely enraptured by just watching Kurt in the candlelight. Blaine was a man made for admiration; perhaps only five to seven years older than Kurt himself, he still had the firm masculine physique that was outwardly intimidating yet his dark, sultry eyes and lashes coaxed both envy and desire. His hair was getting a little long, just past his ears, adding a boyish charm that Kurt used to find irresistible until he watched it form on him. He could imagine, though, that when Blaine was out in public that many women – and perhaps some men – felt a strong notion to run their hands through his soft ebony locks. Kurt did so by accident once, momentarily forgetting himself one evening when Blaine's mouth was sucking his cock into submission. Yes, it was true that the person across from him was deceptive in his appearance. So handsome, so perfect... It was a wonder how the same man could have committed double homicide less than twenty-four hours before.

Thoughts of the young girl attacked Kurt's mind. The longer they stuck around the farm, the higher the risk to her life was. The last farm they had commandeered had been their home for just under a week – was this to be another long stay or a fleeting visit? Kurt prayed for the latter and could not help but blurt out 'How long are we staying here?'

Blaine considered his question and was perceptive enough to know what 'here' meant. He leaned his elbow on the table and held his head in his hand. 'We'll head out in the morning.' He replied easily. The smile did not waver, in fact, it grew. 'Summer is on its way. There are so many places I want to show you. So many parts of the world that look their best in the summer.' To think that Blaine was planning their future months to Kurt's benefit... The teen said nothing but inwardly dwelled on the fact that, thanks to Blaine himself, he had lost interest in 'the world' a long time ago. He didn't deny that many beautiful places existed, or that he had ever dreamed of going further afield than Ohio to see the incredible sights that Blaine was no doubt talking about, but his weary eyes, tired from crying tears of pain and suffering, were going blind to life's beauty. What a waste that Blaine planned to take him far and wide; why not stay in one place and limit the casualties? Too lost in his own misery, Kurt did not notice Blaine's hand until it had taken firm hold of his and yanked it towards the middle of the table. Gasping, the slighter male instinctively tried to pull it back but Blaine's thumb was already rubbing tender circles on his palm. He purposefully turned his hand over to expose his wrist; a sure motion to make Kurt feel vulnerable and under his greater control. 'Baby...' Blaine began softly. Another gulp as Kurt's heart beat faster in fear of what was about to come. It could only be bad; otherwise Blaine would not look so excited. 'I am so proud of you so far. I know it hasn't been easy these past couple of weeks; I've been tough on you and I haven't let you shy away, even when you really wanted to. But you've formed a stronger stomach for it and I think you're ready for the next step.'

It took several moments for Kurt to take in his words, and many more to fathom what he was talking about. First he had been nervous of Blaine's claims of pride for him after being exposed to unrelenting cruelty, but to then end with that? Kurt blinked slowly as his mouth stuttered 'Wh-What do you m-mean-? Next step? I don't understand.' There was a candle mere inches from their hands but now Kurt's palms seemed cold and ready to shake. 'What s-stage am I on?'

Now it was Blaine's turn to look confused, albeit only a little. He grinned and lowered his voice as he chuckled. 'C'mon, Kurt...' He pulled him closer across the table so he could intimately murmur 'don't tell me you haven't _caught on_ yet,' Embarrassment felt very out of place inside Kurt, but the gut notion of disgust did not; he remained lost but understood now that the inner turmoil he had been put through had been deliberately devised. Blaine's eyes widened in partial surprise, but he got over it quickly enough so as to explain what Kurt had not 'caught on' to. 'In the early years of the games, I was on my own. I was happy. I went wherever I wanted and preyed on whoever I pleased – it was simple and exactly what I thought I needed. Then, I met Sebastian.' Kurt's breath hitched in his throat as Blaine's eyes glazed over in some form of nostalgia, 'He was...a worthy partner. He showed me another side of playing my game and it became more fun. Sharing it made it more meaningful. But then, things changed again.' The veil of reminiscing fell and Blaine was once again gazing deep into Kurt. The boy might have cried in fear if those hazel eyes weren't holding him in a state of paralysis. 'No one could have predicted you. I tried fighting the natural pull I had towards you. I thought if I treated you as just a one-off special, then that's what you'd become. I thought after I had you I could snuff you out like the hundreds of others before you but...' He smiled; a true smile. It was a look of happiness which Kurt was apparently responsible for, though he did not want the credit. 'I couldn't. I knew after that first night that it was you and only you. I now know exactly what I want and what I need; you were _meant_ to be mine. In every way: my lover, my confidant, my lust, and the only one I should be sharing the game with. You will be my partner in a way Sebastian never could have been.'

It was as if someone had thrown a bucket of ice cold water right into Kurt's stunned face. His mind raced in an effort to rationalise those claims and find something – anything – to suggest the conclusion he jumped to was wrong. _He can't mean- He knows that's impossible, how could he believe-? Please let me wake up now and find out I have hallucinated it all, because this cannot be true._ But the longer he stared across the little table in the intimate back corner of the otherwise busy restaurant, the realisation dawned on him. This was no misunderstanding. 'A-Are you _crazy?_' He choked out before he could stop himself. Blaine's smile faltered and his head straightened. Too overwhelmed to recognise that he should speak with care, Kurt stole back his hand and shook his head back and forth as he gripped at his own legs. 'You're more insane than I thought if you even think I could ever-' Breathing suddenly became extremely difficult; a sure sign of panic. '_ever_ d-do what you do!'

'Kurt,' Blaine licked his lips, his head dipping so his gaze became dark in one instant.

To even suggest Kurt was capable of doing the deplorable struck the teen to his core. His mind could not comprehend the actuality of what he was implying; toying with, maiming, and then killing. It was the process of an evil psychopath and not something Kurt could imagine doing to even a feeble housefly. Surely Blaine was not so unhinged so as to really believe his own words. 'Play in your..._games_... Nothing you can do to me will ever make me into someone like you.'

At that moment, the waiter appeared with their meals. His neutral expression hinted that he was completely unaware that he had interrupted anything and Blaine remained passive in his presence. Kurt's positively trembling hand took hold of his glass of water and he urged it to his lips, forcing himself to take as many little sips as possible to calm his nerves. He couldn't even manage his standard thanks as the waiter left issuing a pleasant dinner. Alone again, Kurt once again felt very afraid and entirely stupid; if he had angered Blaine and doomed the restaurant occupants to a unexpected and impulsive massacre, he was really the only one to blame. In an effort to bypass additional tension, he lowered his eyes to his plate and ducked his head. He made a few childish attempts to cut up his chicken into tiny pieces as a manner of evading those hazel eyes boring into him, burning with their intensity. At long last Kurt had to look up; it was as if he was mentally ordered to. Blaine remained still, unreadable. Then, the vague smile crept back onto his face. It morphed into a comfortable smirk. He calmly picked up his knife and fork. 'I have to admit, Kurt, I'm sorry you feel that way.' He commented, his tone light and conversational. He looked upon Kurt once more. There was a humorous 'private joke' sparkle to his eyes. 'But you'd be surprised what I'm capable of making you do.' With a definitive end to the discussion, he reached over and put a forkful of his steak to Kurt's lips. The teen had no choice but to eat it. Blaine's smirk widened. 

* * *

A.N. Again, a pretty dull chapter in my own opinion but I'm (hopefully) setting the scene for a more mental/emotional rollercoaster for Kurt in this fic. I hope you're ready to meet a rather different Sebastian, he'll be showing face next! And Blaine starts Kurt's real training in a very gruesome way. Please review or PM – they make me very joyful on the inside!


	3. Dead Man's Deal

A.N. Sorry for the delay! Exam season took hold and I started a new job that I truly suck at so I've not had my laptop open in weeks. But I'm back now and I'm determined to get these chapters written. Sadly I'm working tomorrow so this update (four scenes that I wrote on four different occasions, which is never a good thing...) will be just to tide things over until I can properly hammer out a full-on serious chapter. On the upside, Sebastian is back! And those who don't like him, you might be pleased at the horrible state he's in.

DarkGreenForest4: Thanks for your awesome thoughts! To answer your questions: 1) I _sort of_ will be explaining Blaine's background. It's cheating in a way because I'm using a technique from the Funny Games movie in which the bad guys talk about their background. It's technically revealed but... Well I hope it's just as enjoyable when it comes haha. 2) Hmmm, I didn't think of writing one-shots involving Klaine post-abduction but it's a thought! If I can think of a dark, entertaining event that could have happened between Funny Games 2's ending and 3's beginning then I might upload it to the dark one-shots I have.

Amanda: Hmm, who is easiest to write? Kurt. Usually. Most of my fics are from only his POV so I'm really comfortable looking through 'victim' eyes because I have the most experience in that area. But, Blaine is SO much more fun to write because you can say and do crazy, evil things and twist psychopathic logic to explain them. Sebastian is fun to write for a similar reason but he's also a little more conflicted which is interesting. Finn is just...Finn. I love him but his POV is so dull. For this fic I'm not sure if I'll venture into Blaine's mind because - and Sebastian would agree with me - he has a long term goal. He's like Littlefinger from Game of Thrones: you want to know why he's doing all these things because you know it'll accumulate into something big but the longer you're in the dark just watching the action go on the more desperate you are. Blaine will lie to Kurt about a few things, but you'll find out through other means. Sorry to be cryptic!

* * *

Dead Man's Deal 

* * *

One of Kurt's fondest childhood memories involved helping his father put together breakfast on Sunday mornings to serve his mother in bed. Burt Hummel would cook the food and Kurt would work on the tray presentation, which was typically stealing a long-stemmed flower from a nearby garden and putting it in a mini glass vase complete with yellow ribbon tied around it. His mother always seemed so surprised and thankful when her husband and son would nudge her awake though an older Kurt realised a great deal of the routine was simply for his benefit. He adored his mother and her Sunday morning breakfast in bed was never a chore; simply a way Kurt could guarantee making his mother smile. Burt loved his wife too, and when she took sick it seemed every day was Sunday as he would bring her breakfast, lunch _and_ dinner with a warm and affectionate smile. After she passed, Kurt found it difficult to be at home on Sunday mornings and it took a long time before he and his dad found their footing. Breakfast in bed was soon just a memory Kurt could dwell on with a vague smile on his face.

But this morning, as he sat up in bed looking down at the tray on his lap and the plate of stacked blueberry pancakes, he was struggling to force the queasy expression it had created. He thanked the grinning man standing over him by the bed. Blaine placed a tall glass of orange juice on the bedside table and placed a lingering kiss on his captive's cheek. 'I want you to be ready to leave by ten.' Kurt nodded obediently and tried to ignore the hand that moved to squeeze his blanket-covered thigh. 'Make sure you stretch your legs; we have a full day of driving ahead of us and I don't want your sexy muscles to get all cramped up.' Blaine himself was pulling on his sneakers in preparation for his daily run. It wasn't that surprising that he was athletic; you'd need to be if you wanted to have 'Extremely Apt and Practically Professional Serial Killer' as your lifestyle of choice.

Awkwardly cutting into top pancake and holding a piece on the fork, Kurt licked his lips as kept his eyes down. 'The little girl... Do you have plans for her?' He hated the way his stomach twisted and turned at such a simple question. Truth be told, he almost regretted Blaine leaving anyone alive in the first place because now he feared for a life of someone he had actually met.

Blaine hummed, pulling on a wife beater that clung to his lean frame. 'She's staying in her room. I told you yesterday.'

'But-!' Kurt made himself stop until he had managed to lower the anxiousness in his voice. Panic got you nowhere with Blaine. 'If no one comes, she'll die-'

'That is not my problem,' Blaine easily overpowered him with his tone and his unsettling gaze, his fingers pushing his chin up in a snapping jerk. 'and it isn't yours either.'

Feeling like he should have known better even bringing it up, Kurt bowed his head and remained silent. Blaine left satisfied. Kurt made an effort to eat at least one pancake but, as delicious as it was, his appetite was lost very quickly. He was a fool to think Blaine might have changed his mind. He eventually found himself entering Sophie's bedroom armed with more bottled water and his unwanted breakfast. The little girl was waiting for him right at the door. 'I need the bathroom,' She was biting her lip and holding herself, feet tucked inwards and her knees almost buckling. 'I need it now!'

Kurt felt true tremors of fear as he ushered the girl across the landing and into the bathroom. As she relieved herself, he managed to find a small child's training potty tucked in a cupboard. The girl did not question him as he rushed her back into her room, nor did she ask why she needed to go back to using her potty when Kurt sat her down on her bed and told her. 'I've brought you lots and lots of toilet paper, honey,' the teenager spoke in a soft but urgent manner, 'And I know it looks like I've given you too much food but I really need you to only eat when you're really hungry, okay? And if you hear anyone in the house, you gotta shout real loud so they can come get you.' He paused, then took her hand. 'Someone _will_ come get you. You don't need to be scared.'

Sophie grinned, almost giggling. 'I'm not scared, silly. I'm a brave girl – even daddy says so.' It broke Kurt's heart to hear her words but he managed to not crumble in front of her. However, the emotion in his eyes must have showed as she suddenly frowned. 'Are you scared?' Before Kurt could answer, a stuffed toy was thrust into his hands: Caden the Bear Cub, the same toy she had introduced him to the day before. 'Caden will keep you safe. He's a strong bear and he likes you.' Kurt stared at her in awe, a tiny hint of an affectionate smile sneaking on to his face.

_Slam!_

Downstairs, Blaine had returned. Kurt really shouldn't be in talking to the girl, he knew, so he urgently tried to pass the bear back. Sophie refused by tucking her arms away with a cheeky laugh. Kurt had no choice but to leave without another word, bear in hand. 

* * *

The drive back into town was quiet apart from Blaine's light humming and thumb beats on the steering wheel. The sun was shining brilliantly in a cloudless sky and the spirit of the driver was high. Such perfect driving conditions were lost on Kurt; however, who sat slumped in the front passenger seat with the toy sitting on his lap.

'We'll stop and grab some provisions in the next town over. More inconspicuous there, you know?' Blaine mused. He got a mere affirming hum in response which, to him, was not up to Kurt's usual standard of politeness. He glanced at his companion and frowned at the expression on his face. 'A little old for stuffed animals, aren't you?'

Kurt half expected to be ordered to throw the bear out the window but the order did not come. He continued smoothing over its soft brown fur and adjusting its cute bow tie sewn into its collar. He found himself lost in its big, plastic, amber eyes just revelling in the innocence of a small child and their teddy bear. His heart longed to know such innocence again in his life but his mind knew all too well how impossible that was. Even if he was transported so some safe, mystical land with unicorns and rainbows to live for the rest of his life, he had been contaminated too much by the man sitting next to him to die with any form of childlike simplicity. He could tell his worry for Sophie's wellbeing was frustrating Blaine a great deal as the atmosphere of the car suddenly became heavy, but he couldn't help it.

They had reached the main road of the town when Kurt happened to look up as they passed the local elementary school. Was this the school Sophie was supposed to attend when she was old enough? He swallowed hard and looked back down at his lap.

Another minute of silence ensued, until-

'Goddammit,' Blaine hissed, suddenly slamming on the breaks causing Kurt to lurch forward – saved only by his safety belt – and the bear to fly onto the floor. He turned his terrified eyes up to Blaine. _I got him angry. Why did I do that? I should have just talked like everything was normal. He's mad and he'll beat me again and he'll force me to listen to him kill this entire town! How could I forget my place even for a second-? _Blaine was glaring straight ahead, eyebrows furrowed and his knuckles tight on the steering wheel. 'This is the only time, Kurt, the _only_ time,' he muttered in irritation as he rolled his window down. He had stopped the car a mere foot away from a bus stop where one alarmed woman with a pushchair stood. The toddler in the pushchair seemed equally as bewildered. 'Listen to me very carefully,' Blaine demanded. The woman could not defy his order even if she wanted to. 'There's a young girl locked up alone in a farmhouse nearby. Unless you want her to die from dehydration and starvation then you should probably tell the police.' And with that, Blaine jammed the car back into gear and put his foot down.

Despite the force of the car pinning him into his seat, Kurt managed to turn around and look out the rear window. The woman stood stunned for many moments but before she disappeared from view he saw her pull out a cell phone.

Sophie was going to be fine. She would be found. There couldn't be too many farms around that area and it was such a small town it was likely the police would instantly know where to look. He couldn't believe it. He sat back in his seat and gaped at Blaine, who had returned to focusing on the road with no less frustration on his face. Blaine had been able to tell what he was upset by and he fixed it. How could Kurt take that? The same guy who was a cold-blooded murderer, who would regularly terrorise him with threats and sexual violence, who had only the night before declared that Kurt was to become his partner in crime against his will, had cared about Kurt's feelings at that moment.

'Th-thank you,' Kurt found himself stuttering out.

Blaine sighed, still not looking at him. 'Don't thank me, Kurt,' He said dryly, 'I don't believe in saving lives. I believe in the saying '_life for a life'_. If that kid isn't dying, someone else is. And it's going to be you who decides who taking her place.' 

* * *

'Step this way, Mr Hudson,'

Finn obediently passed across the red line and through the large metallic threshold that was the security scanner. In the few times he had come across similar machines in airports, he had been nervous – anxious, even – but he barely paid it any attention today. Today he had more on his mind than simply setting off an alarm from forgetting to remove loose change from his pocket. As it turned out, no alarm sounded and the officer on the other side silently motioned for him to re-join the doctor he had entered the prison hospital with.

'Just down this hall. He's in the far room.' Dr Peters informed him quietly as he led Finn past the cold, dank, grey doors. Finn could not see into any cells but the occasional shout or murmur of conversation betrayed the fact most contained patients. 'We initially put him in room seven but the nurses didn't feel comfortable with him being so close to their staff room.' The balding man gave a wry smile as they reached the last door and he dug into his lab coat for keys. 'His..._reputation_ certainly preceded him.'

'They're afraid,' Finn mused in understanding, pausing and then frowning, 'But I thought you said he was-'

'Oh, he is.' Peters assured him with a pat on the arm. 'And we're still obligated to restrain him so don't worry. He isn't even a danger to himself.'

_Being a danger to himself isn't what I'm worried about._

Finn nodded and thanked the man as the door was unlocked and then opened for him. Told that a guard will be just down the hall and that he could take as much (or as little) time as he needed, Peters left him to it. Steeling his admittedly quivering nerves, the teen walked into Sebastian's room.

The door shut with a firm click behind him. He was now alone, only...he wasn't. The room was in the shape of a perfect square; every wall and surface the shade of eggshell-white. One solitary window (again, a perfect square) opposite the door was barely big enough for a person to crawl through, and they were decorated with less than welcoming metal bars. There would be no escaping that way. However, the main attraction was lying still on the single hospital bed. Sebastian. Eyes and mouth closed, the young man's chest rose and fell slowly under a cotton night shirt. His skin seemed paler than Finn recalled; his dark brown locks were like rich mahogany against ghostly white. As the doctor had alluded to, the felon's wrists, though lying lax at his side, were cuffed to the bed rails. One hand was connected to a drip. At the foot of the mattress his ankles could also be seen strapped down underneath the thin, pristine sheets. The only sound was the steady beep from the heart monitor.

Upon seeing him, Finn froze on the spot. No amount of mental preparation could have readied him for this moment even if the subject of his nightmares was apparently out for the count. Chills ran up his spine and parts of his body broke out into a cold sweat. This was a murderer: a sadist psychopath who had destroyed his entire life (well, he was at least responsible for half of its destruction) and the same man who had stripped him of all decency. The last time he had laid eyes on him, Sebastian had almost choked him to death whilst sexually abusing him. Watching him sleep there, looking so weak and sickly, could not relieve any inner agony Finn felt. Logic told him he could attack if he wanted to – after all, if anyone was watching on a security camera it would still take them a good twenty seconds or so to reach the room, and even then no one would blame him for wanting to extract vengeance – but he knew he couldn't. With nothing else to do, Finn took a few tentative steps forward. There was a seat by the bed but he couldn't bring himself to take it or remove his intense gaze from Sebastian's face.

'It's rude to stare.' The words seemed to defy Finn; he hadn't noticed the man's lips move but the sound of his voice definitely came from his direction. He noticeably jerked back as Sebastian's eyes fluttered open to stare directly at him. Lips tugged upwards to form a tiny smirk. 'But you didn't bring me grapes either so I'm guessing you just aren't up for being polite at all.'

Realising he had been faking, Finn immediately figured he could probably muster up a few punches into the creep's vulnerable gut after all. _Keep a level head, Finn, there's more important things at stake_. 'I had them confiscated.' Finn muttered, unsure why he was trying to inject humour into his tone when inside he felt nothing but loathing.

Sebastian glanced at the door. 'Typical; they have it in for me, you know. I must have a multitude of fans and admirers by now but they haven't let any visit me, isn't that cruel? All I get is you.' Finn said nothing as Sebastian's smug expression grew bigger. 'Finn Hudson: the boy that I must have torn apart in more ways than anyone can fathom – well, who is still alive, that is – has come to my bedside to tend to me. Or perhaps he just came for another shameful tumble around in the world of gay sex?' Gritting his teeth hard enough to hurt his jaw, Finn could feel his cheeks burning hot and bitter hatred bubbling in his heart. Drinking in the sight, Sebastian continued. 'I think they're called...conjugal visits?' He laughed as Finn visibly strained to maintain a level head. 'We could re-create our first time only, because I'm a little tied up right now, perhaps we could switch places? Come on, Finn, climb up and put your belt around my throat and ride me until-'

'I'm not going to stand here and listen to this, you know,' Finn somehow managed to interrupt without snapping. There had been a tug at his throat as vivid flashes of memory knocked his stability so he had needed to stop him from talking.

Sebastian nestled his head back on his pillow comfortably. 'Of course I know,' He snorted, 'What, you think I don't know why you're here? Do you think it hasn't occurred to me that you'd come see me now on the very first day I'm open for visitor-business?' He issued a patronising smile, 'Oh, Finn. It's adorable that you thought I'd help you. You came hoping I'd be this fountain of knowledge that was willing to share the golden nuggets of wisdom which would bring your precious brother home. Sorry to disappoint, _Finny Boy_, but I should thank you for being my source of entertainment for a day. I'm afraid Kurt will just have to pray one of his nightly beatings will result in his untimely, but well earned, death.'

Finn stood like a stone statue, the muscles on his face clenched to reveal no emotion. He knew Sebastian would do this and he had told himself to be ready for it. 'Well, if anyone is going to know about untimely but well-earned deaths it'll be you, right Sebastian?' The smirk on the patient's face faltered ever so slightly. Finn took a small step forward. 'You put on one hell of a good show for someone who'll be dead pretty soon.' This was not a threat and it wasn't taken as such; Sebastian knew what he was referring to and now it was his turn to be silent. 'Yeah, doctor-patient confidentiality isn't really a _thing_ here; Peters told me everything.' With a tiny amount of glee breaking through, Finn gave Sebastian's sheet-covered frame a look over. 'It must suck knowing you have so much internal damage that not even surgery stands a good chance of saving you. How long did he say you had?' As Finn feigned thoughtfulness, Sebastian steadily glared at him with a heavy frown full of malice. 'Oh, right...a matter of months. By then, the dying tissue will have eaten away at your organs and the internal bleeding will start up again, and then-' He paused and then shrugged. 'Well, you know all that. You're essentially a ticking time bomb. And the guy who will have 'killed' you still walks free.'

'I don't grudge that Blaine wasn't arrested,' Sebastian broke in sharply, though his bravado voice had now become quiet. He turned his head away, and that's when Finn knew he was on to something.

'I don't believe for a second that you don't grudge that Blaine is still out enjoying life after betraying you for the sake of choosing someone like Kurt over you. Going on to live his perfect life whilst you have nothing, no one, and you'll die alone.' Sebastian was now making a show of looking straight out the window as if doing so would mean Finn didn't exist. Such childish attempts to ignore him only encouraged Finn to go on. He took another step forward and leaned down against the side cabinet so he could steer his words carefully into Sebastian's ear. 'You can either wait to die in his hellhole of a place and dwell on the fact Blaine and Kurt are out there right now, free, or you can use what you know to your advantage. You know Blaine's customs. You know how he thinks. You alone can make sure he's arrested and cut off from Kurt forever so he can be left to die alone in a dank prison cell where he belongs. He betrayed you. He used you and tried to throw you away. This is your one shot to do something about it.'

His words hung in the air like a mass cloud of fat raindrops. As each word fell on Sebastian's ears, Finn searched for something in his face which would indicate they were working. Nothing seemed to stir behind the dying man's eyes and he did not reply. Finn waited for several seconds. Nothing. With a frustrated sigh, Finn pulled himself up and turned on his heel. Louis had pleaded with him not to go, saying he would come back worse than before after visiting, and he was probably right: Finn had tried to work miracles with a hopeless case and was now not only angry with Sebastian but also with himself. He pulled the door open and moved to leave.

'What date is it?'

Finn paused halfway through the door, wondering if he had imagined the whisper of a voice. He re-entered the room and the door clicked shut again. 'What?'

Sebastian slowly turned his eyes from the window to Finn himself. 'What date is it today? None of those asshole guards answer me when I ask. I...I don't even know what month it is.'

Finn's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. 'Uh...May. May ninth.'

Sebastian's lips moved as if silently repeating that information to himself. He gazed up at the ceiling and then bit his lip in consideration. At last, as Finn was beginning to wonder if he should try leaving again, the man nodded. 'Alright.' He looked at Finn with an air of boredom. 'I've got nothing better to do, I might as well teach you some useless stuff as I wait to die. But, only if I deal with you. No police. No doctors. You got questions, you ask them. I don't want anyone else in here with us.'

Knowing it was a dangerous game agreeing to the terms and conditions of a psychotic murderer, Finn just had to focus on the fact he might soon be another step closer to finding Kurt again. 'Okay. Deal.' 

* * *

Night had well and truly fallen. From inside the car, Kurt could hear an owl hooting somewhere down the road but otherwise the air was still and quiet. The street was as black as Kurt's thoughts were bleak: he knew something bad was going to happen, he just did not know what.

Blaine had mentioned that they would be staying overnight in a fancy hotel in some preppy college town but, as the car had been slowed to a stop just over thirty minutes ago, Kurt couldn't help but notice they were parking in the shadows of a residential area that did not contain anything remotely resembling a hotel. Of course, Blaine's earlier statements of Kurt choosing someone to take young Sophie's place (which he had not explained any further since) had haunted the teen during the long arduous journey of the day. When Kurt had turned to look at Blaine in question as the engine cut out, the young man had leaned over to kiss Kurt's unsuspecting lips as he handcuffed one of his hands to the steering wheel. He had then told him he would 'be right back' before exiting the vehicle and disappearing into the night. That had been half an hour ago. In that time, Kurt's mind raced as if to figure out his captors plan before it could happen. Had Blaine really gone off without him? Was Kurt supposed to do something? Was this some sort of test to see if Kurt could be trusted not to try and get help or attention? Or was this a mind game sending him through stages of suspicion and doubt? Blaine had a love for games, after all. Whatever it was, Kurt couldn't shake off the almost factual belief that before Blaine let him sleep tonight someone else would die. He would never admit it aloud but Kurt hoped that Blaine was off doing the deed right now. He didn't want to hear it, like he had been forced to before.

_But he said he would make you choose._ Kurt bit his lip and the chain from the handcuffs jingled noisily as he fidgeted. _Blaine is nothing if not a man of his word. He said you would decide who died in Sophie's place._ The thought made him sick. This was just like the conversation they had at the restaurant when Blaine implied he would turn Kurt into his murderous comrade. How could he force Kurt to commit such inhumane and unspeakable things? He could threaten Finn, he guessed, but that would mean going back on his original promise of leaving him alone if Kurt were to come with him. Somehow Kurt knew Blaine seemed to think he had other ways of making Kurt jump through his hoops and Kurt was scared despite having no real reason to doubt his own humanity.

The sudden crunch of the passenger door handle made him almost leap across the car in alarm. Blaine's smiling face ducked into view. 'Hey beautiful. Sorry I took so long.' Kurt blinked up at him. Blaine wasn't covered in blood, nor was he dishevelled in any way. So...maybe he hadn't done anything to anyone? That smile unnerved him. Why wasn't he getting into the car from his own side? 'Sit back a second,' Blaine continued, placing a gentle hand against Kurt's chest and half climbing onto his lap. 'Let's get your hand free...' A moment later and the metal bracelet around Kurt's wrist fell away, the hand itself to be brought up to Blaine's lips. The older man kissed the reddened intents where he had been restrained too tightly before easing him out of the vehicle. The door was shoved shut and Blaine then pressed Kurt up against the bonnet, hands rubbing up and down his t shirt clad sides despite the air still being warm. 'It's late. I'm tired, you're tired...I want to make this last pit stop real quick, okay?'

The handsome man's mouth grazed over Kurt's and the boy swallowed. 'What, uh, where are we?' he murmured quietly, 'What did we stop for?'

Blaine sighed and wrapped his arms around him. The motion was loving but it was fooling no one. 'Believe it or not, Kurt, I knew hurting that kid would be one step too far so early in your...exposure to what I do. It's why I didn't let myself do anything to her and why – when I saw your face as we drove off – I gave a tip off so she'd be found.' He teasingly nipped at Kurt's jawline with his fingers. 'You know you're my weakness. But I meant what I said: I don't like letting one off the hook without catching another. If that girl was so..._important_ to you, then we'll just have to find a substitute. I told you last night at dinner I want to take you to the next stage. Consider tonight killing two birds with one stone.' With that, he winked and slid his hand into Kurt's. The teen found himself being guided away from the car and down the sidewalk.

'Wait,' Kurt tried to pull back but his attempts were futile. 'Wh-what do you mean? Blaine, I _told_ you, I won't kill _anyone_-!'

'You don't need to,' Blaine interrupted, now tugging him through trees and across little lanes into a dank neighbourhood. 'you just need to choose who I kill.'

'Blaine-!'

Panic rose from within Kurt's chest. He hadn't truly believed this would happen; a foolish mistake on his part for doubting someone so rigorous. Was Blaine going to try and make him choose a house? Wait – was he bringing him to a pre-selected house now? The latter possibility ended up being true. As Kurt continued to plead for Blaine to stop, they stepped out into a single long lane with a small beaten up, one story house at the end. All lights were on but there was no visible movement through the windows. 'Kurt, I don't want to discipline you tonight so stop struggling and get inside before I get angry.' Kurt was not given much of a choice as he was practically hurled through the open front door. He fell onto a scratchy threaded floor and the palms of his hands flared up in immediate pain from carpet burn, but that was the least of his worries.

Kurt was in a living room. A very untidy, dirty and cheap-looking living room complete with wallpaper bubbling off the damp-stained walls, a strong oder of cigarette smoke, and four individuals also on their knees with their hands and feet tied behind them. The urge to vomit overtook him but he was too stunned to move. The people he was looking at – three men and one woman – had their mouths stuffed and gagged. The youngest of the group, a boy who looked Kurt's age, was covered in tattoos and his own blood from apparent blows to his head. The middle aged man and woman – presumably the boy's parent's - kneeled on either side of him with less by way of injuries as Kurt could make out stains on their clothes. The last was an elderly man who had fallen over at some point and was now lying, his face scrunched up in agony, at the foot of the television set. The floor was covered in gravy and various bits of food, and four mean trays were also nearby. Kurt could see hold the scene had unfolded: the family had sat down with their TV dinners only to be interrupted by Blaine, who would have easily subdued the three more able individuals before tying them up. The boy had put up the most fight and that would have earned him a few punishing punches.

Blaine stepped in behind him and silently closed the door over. 'Kurt, I'd like you to meet... Actually, perhaps it's better you don't learn any names and get attached.' He took hold of Kurt's collar and hoisted him back onto his feet before pulling him further towards the family. The woman tried to speak through her gag but nothing intelligible came from her. She had caught sight of Kurt's nauseated face and was appealing for help. But the teen was still frozen in fear and horrified anticipation. 'Now, I don't want you to worry. There's four people in front of us and I've decided that three of those four will go on to live their pathetic, trashy lives after we leave.' The boy snarled at his words, most likely cursing through the fabric covering his mouth. Sly hands snuck up Kurt's back and round to massage his shoulders. 'All you have to do,' Blaine murmured into Kurt's ear, 'is choose which one _won't_.'

'I...' Kurt was shaking his head and dizziness was overtaking him. 'I can't- I can't pick someone to die-'

'Don't think of it like that, then,' Blaine continued to speak soothingly, coaxing him forward. 'Think of it as choosing which three people you want to save. Doesn't that sound nicer? What about the old man, hmm? How many years does he have left in this world anyway?' Kurt found himself staring deep into the greying eyes of the man writhing on the floor. 'Or what about Junior? Just look at him: he's probably in a gang. He'll spend most of his life behind bars – fuck, you might actually be saving lives by choosing to end his now. But I want you to choose, okay? Those were just my suggestions.'

For the first time in months, Kurt found himself physically shoving Blaine off him. The words, the hands on his shoulders, the gun in Blaine's pocket which dug into his back – it was all too much. He rounded on his captor with tears splashing down his front. 'I _can't!_' he cried. 'I won't! Y-you can't make me choose. I won't be like you. I won't be responsible for a-anyone dying!'

As he both expected and feared, Blaine's encouraging and positive demeanour melted away fast. He did not like Kurt arguing with him. His glare caused Kurt to draw back against the wall. 'Is that your final answer?' Blaine asked.

Kurt nodded incessantly, praying that this would all just end and they could leave without-

'You should have just done what I said,' Blaine replied coldly, reaching into his pocket and pulling out his gun. Arm straight and with perfect precision, he fired.

_Bang!_

The old man's body jerked and then lay still.

_Bang! Bang!_

The father had been shot in the head first, giving just enough time for his wife's eyes to bulge in horror and her lungs to suck in air to scream before a bullet went through her own forehead.

_Bang!_

The boy swayed on his knees for an impressive four seconds and then fell forward face first onto the carpet. Blood was pouring from the hole between his eyes. It had all happened so fast – too fast. Kurt couldn't believe what he just saw. He crumbled, back arching against the wall as his feet pushed to the floor as if to force him out of the scene in front of him. Four people...dead. Just like that. Now there was just silence except from the sigh which came from Blaine as he tucked the weapon away and rounded on his prisoner. 'You didn't want to be responsible for ending one life? Congratulations, Kurt. Thanks to you, four people are now dead.' 

* * *

A.N. Tip. Of. The. Iceberg. But you guys knew that. Also, though I have a steady storyline for FinnXSeb, the main focus will be Klaine and there will be chapters without them appearing.


	4. Deceptive Disappointment

A.N. Hey folks, hope you had a brilliant Friday! I'm hoping I can free up enough time next week to keep to my usual posting schedule, but after that I'm not sure. I'm heading to the US (California, yay!) in June and I can never write whilst on holiday so, unless I manage to crank out a couple of chapters in advance, it's likely there will be another delay. I'd write on the plane but I get so paranoid of people around me snooping in and the last thing I'd want is for them to accidently read a few lines of the types of stories I write so I guess I'll just watch all the movies the airline has to offer instead haha. In other news, I lost a reader! Don't worry; I say this contently. A follower of the fics has decided they truly do not like the direction this story is heading in and has informed me they won't be reading any more. I knew when I chose this plotline that it might not be popular with everyone, but I'm glad he/she enjoyed it this far and fortunately there's a lot of awesome writers on here who they can enjoy. I just wanted to mention that I understand the characterisation, dynamics and plot are incredibly different to before (I want to go out with a bang, so to speak, and end it in a way that hopefully makes me happy too) so if I lose you fine people along the way then know I've definitely appreciated all the support and words of encouragement up until now. You rock.

Replies:

The Nopecoaster (if you return for whatever reason): Thank you for reading both fics before now and taking an interest in this one – I'm only sorry the plot wasn't to your liking, obviously I can't please everyone but I appreciate you investing some of your time for it until now.

Glowdawn: Hmmm - your idea is eeirily similar to what Blaine made Sebastian do but it would make sense he'd react like that! After all, Kurt is far more personal, I could definitely see that scene play out exactly as you described :D

Whitegardenia: Kurt being jealous of Blaine would be so much fun to write! Obviously I don't want to spoil anything but if the story headed in that direction that would make for a great display of Kurt's overall change. And even as a dream, it would give a helluva lot of insight into Blaine's desires or Kurt's fear if he finds himself growing attractive to him! I'd like to bring the story full-circle too...it could work! :)

* * *

Deceptive Disappointment

* * *

_Bang_

_Bang-Bang_

_Bang_

In a dripping cold sweat, Kurt woke himself upright with his pounding heart and the distressing images that plagued his nightmares still branded at the front of his mind. He panted and gulped down air as his wide eyes searched the darkness of the hotel room. The stillness and quiet surrounding him made his sounds of panic seem louder than they were. He closed his mouth and tried to stifle himself.

He then looked down at the man lying beside him. Though eyes were shut and his face a picture of peace, Kurt had no doubt in his mind that Blaine was awake. His arm was still draped over Kurt's waist. His hands shaking, Kurt turned away and drew his legs up to his chest so he could press his forehead against his knees. _One...two...three...four – breathe, Kurt – five...six...seven..._

The massacre of that family of four which Kurt had been forced to witness had occurred just two days ago. Since then, Blaine had decided to stay in their fancy, five-star hotel a little longer as 'the area was ripe with a variety of perfect neighbourhoods to train in'. Each day brought Kurt dread and fear that at any moment Blaine might announce they were going 'try again' in the hopes that Kurt would learn from his previous mistake. Blaine had been casually tormenting him since:

'_They didn't need to all die. I said choose one; there was no trick. But you didn't listen and now three extra people lie cold and stiff on a disgusting living room floor.'_

'_If you had shown me that you would obey without question, I would have only had to test you once. But now you'll have to prove yourself over and over until I'm satisfied. The more you resist, the longer it'll take and the more will die because of you.' _

Those words were never spoken with anger or judgement; they had been mere comments given in passing and for some reason it made it harder to take. Every time Kurt closed his eyes, he would see the splatter of blood and the blackish holes of mush one each pale face in his memory. If that was not enough to cause him worry and anguish, he also had additional concerns with Blaine's behaviour. The man had not kissed him since that night. When he touched him, his hands were rough and fleeting. Instead of asking Kurt what he would like to eat for dinner – though Kurt could hardly eat at all – he would simply decide for him. It was crazy to think that less than a few days before, such distant treatment would have been a dream come true to Kurt as it meant he did not have to suffer the sickening feeling inside having a murderer dote on him. But now...he still didn't _want_ the consideration, but he recognised that without it Blaine was now someone he did not know nor knew how to read. The arm lying on his waist was the only form of prolonged contact he had given him and Kurt had a horrible notion inside that it meant he had disappointed Blaine more than he thought he had.

_Why do I care? This is all so barbaric! Why am I feeling this way when all I've done is refuse to compromise myself for his 'training'? Kurt, you have to be stronger than this!_

'I need to go to the bathroom,' He found himself whispering into the darkness. Without opening his eyes or uttering a sound, Blaine slid his arm off of him. The teen tip-toed away and returned a few minutes later, hating himself for hoping Blaine would return his tainted hold to him – anything to show that he was not in unknown (and therefore dangerous) territory. Blaine did not move to touch him again and Kurt spent the rest of what was left of the night worrying about what this meant for his life.

* * *

'You're lying.' Finn's mouth formed a tight line of heavy disapproval, 'I refuse to believe that _you_ don't know anything about Blaine's whereabouts. You were partners for years.'

Sebastian merely smiled. 'What do you expect me to know when I've already told you that we never planned ahead?' He chuckled and turned his head away to gaze out the small window. 'Shit, I think we screwed you guys up worse than I thought. You think Blaine and I share some type of mental connection or something. He could be anywhere in the world right now.'

That answer was like nails down a chalkboard: Finn had been sitting for almost an hour in the too-white, too clean hospital room and so far he had gained nothing useful from the patient. His nerves were positively vibrating from frustration. Sebastian deflected half of his questions like a professional and gave short, unhelpful responses to others. However, the worst reaction he gave was peering at his visitor with judging eyes whilst vaguely shaking his head; Finn would feel like he had disappointed him in some way, like he was asking all the wrong questions. His sensible side would tell him that he was being played with – that at least part of Sebastian's desire to have him there was to mess with him – but he could not ignore the feeling that if he just brought up the right subject or worded his phrases a little differently he might strike gold. This was his third time in the prison hospital and he knew the tow such visits would take on him. Sebastian just had a way of getting under his skin by just...living. 'Alright,' Finn was straining himself to not growl, 'so tell me how you guys ended up in Lima on the night you killed my mother?'

Sebastian turned back to him; his eyes alight with amused interest. 'A cruel twist of fate.'

The way the corners of his mouth twisted upwards in humour and his grin growing as wide as the Cheshire Cat caused Finn's blood to begin to boil. He bit his bottom lip and rubbed his hands on his legs before standing. 'Maybe Louis was right. Maybe I am wasting my time here if you really know nothing.'

His apparent giving up of the situation did nothing to alarm Sebastian, who merely snorted 'Idiot,' before correcting him, 'I don't know where Blaine is, but I know Blaine. And that could be your only key to unlocking the whole thing.'

Not wanting to sit back down (and thus admit his interest) nor lose out on what Sebastian was referring to, Finn walked across the room and poured himself a cup of water from an awaiting jug. 'Is that so?' he half-scoffed. He looked back at the pale young man and recalled how easily Sebastian had overwhelmed him in the past with his pain-inflicting hands yet now he was able to mould their conversation into whatever he wanted. It unnerved him. 'And what information could possibly lead to finding them?'

'Oh, I don't know,' Sebastian was practically chuckling now, thoroughly enjoying being one up in the discussion. 'The States are rampant with crime, but Blaine is a one-of-a-kind killer. His crimes are as personal and as revealing as his DNA. Know what to look for and you'd be able to track him.'

Finn frowned. 'And how does _that_ help? You say that you two would travel across three or four state lines in a week and that you'd never plan a route. If I recognised one crime scene as belonging to Blaine, by the time I got there he and Kurt would be long gone and I'd have no way of knowing where they'd go next. He'd always be one step ahead.'

'You're quite the pessimist, aren't you, Finn?' Sebastian commented lightly, tilting his head to study him. 'You'd be right, of course, if not for the fact that I _know_ Blaine. I was able to predict his decisions. I was never wrong. I said Blaine could be anywhere – he could be in a mud hut in rural Mozambique – because he has the abilities to get Kurt and himself there. But does that make it true?' He shook his head. 'If you know Blaine, you know what he likes. What he doesn't like. What he thinks he needs. Right now, Blaine has a goal to achieve with Kurt and knowing what that goal is could even the playing field and even put yourself at an advantage.'

Finn then made a dumb move: he let himself be caught up in these facts and – worse yet – he let his eagerness to know more show. 'What goal does he have with Kurt?'

Sebastian smirked. He knew he had hooked his fish and Finn knew it just as well as he felt a tightness in his chest. The young man yawned loudly, his handcuffed wrists clanging against the metal bed poles they were locked to. 'Oh my,' He said, eyes closing over. 'I'm suddenly feeling so...sleepy. All this talk and excitement has made me tired.' It was all an act, and not a very well delivered act at that, and Finn's fists clenched. 'We'll just have to continue this conversation tomorrow, Finny Boy.'

'Are you serious?' Finn snapped, approaching the bed but the other man continued to smirk with his eyes shut. He was so close to punching him right in the face but he knew it would do nothing but set him back. Somehow managing to control himself, Finn snatched his coat from his visitor's seat and headed out the door. Before disappearing, though, he had enough nerve to address Sebastian one last time. 'And by the way, just so you know, you were wrong.' Sebastian's mouth twitched. 'You said you were able to predict his decisions, that you were never wrong. Well...you were wrong. Right before he put that knife into your gut and put you on the road to a slow, painful death, you thought he chose you. But he didn't. You were wrong.'

By the time Sebastian opened his eyes, Finn had left.

* * *

Kurt sat on the sidewalk, hoping that the sinking notion inside would transform into numbness soon. The sun was setting across the near-empty car park, dying the sky in reddish orange hues.

Occasionally he felt a vague breeze of someone passing by on the pathway behind him, and each time he would hunch his back, pull up his collar and dip his baseball cap further over his face. He was told to not act suspicious or let anyone get a proper look at him – though barely anyone noticed his existence at all. He was simply a youth sitting outside a supermarket with a soda in his hands. His drink was untouched. Kurt couldn't remember Blaine even handing it to him before his captor entered the store. He was too shaken, too anxious. After all, it had been a horrible afternoon.

'_Where are we going?'_

'_Just for a ride.'_

'_Blaine, are you going to...do what you did to me the other night?'_

'_I'll promise you this, Kurt; if I stop the car at all then you will not need to unbuckle your belt. You can stay in the car.' _

'_Oh... A-Alright.'_

Kurt had been foolish to not foresee something bad happening. Blaine had still not touched him and he had not mentioned further 'training' at all that day. Instead, he spoke of how he had let his standards slip when travelling with Sebastian. He complained that when he was with his old partner, they had lost a taste for the finer things in life despite always having a never-ending flow of cash at their disposal. When Blaine had last been in this town they were now currently exploring, Sebastian had claimed to be too tired to drive the additional half hour to their up-scale hotel and had pulled off the road to sleep in a crumby, run down motel named '_Razzo_' in some god-forsaken baron land three miles off the freeway. Blaine had been tired too but could not sleep in the filthy room as he could hear the sounds of rats behind the walls and – worse still – the over-exaggerated cries of a woman (mostly likely a hooker) in the throes of passion. It had made Blaine's stomach turn and the following morning he was forced to skip his usual hunt for victims in favour of a proper rest in a clean hotel, leaving Sebastian to wander the town alone. Kurt was distracted by the story as they drove Blaine's recently acquired convertible along the country roads, finding himself dwelling on a subject that was occurring to him more and more these days: what life had been like between the two killers when all they had was each other. He found himself staring at Blaine from across the car, watching the way his sunglasses hid the emotion in those hazel eyes and the manner in which his tousled hair flickered in the wind. Blaine had caught sight of him staring and he issued the smallest of smiles.

'_Pick a colour, Kurt.'_

'_What?'_

'_Pick a colour.'_

_A pause. 'Burgundy.'_

_Laughter._

Kurt wondered what Blaine was thinking, but there was no sign of danger so he made himself relax.

'_Choose a country of the world.'_

'_Any country?' _

'_Yeah,'_

'_Uh...New Zealand.'_

'_Why New Zealand?'_

'_I don't know. I thought I'd visit one day.'_

'_I'll take you there.'_

The exchange had been short but strange. Blaine had not turned to look at him, his gaze straight ahead along the long stretch of lonely road. Somewhere up ahead there was a vague shape of a building; perhaps they were entering a new town. But Kurt was more intrigued by Blaine's determined and convincing tone as he promised to take him to this other country. Did Blaine truly believe he could travel across the world without risk of being caught? And with Kurt, no less? A new thought entered his head: Blaine had always been several steps ahead of everyone – how could Kurt doubt his abilities now? He was still thinking on this when Blaine asked his last question.

'_Pick a number between one and thirty.'_

'_Between one and thirty... Twenty-four.'_

And suddenly the car had stopped. It had stopped so suddenly Kurt had choked as his body was thrust into his seat belt. Alarm bells were ringing in his head but as he looked out his window all he saw was baron land. He looked to his left out through Blaine's window: _Razzo Motel_. Kurt could remember murmuring Blaine's name in anxious suspicion but the other man had simply ignored him and was reaching behind their seats for a baseball bat. Kurt's eyes had widened as realisation slowly dawned.

'_Blaine...?'_

'_Baby, I'm gonna be gone just a few seconds. A minute at the most. You can play with the radio if you want, just sit tight while I pay a visit to room twenty-four,'_

'_No! You can't-! I didn't choose-!'_

'_Relax! There might not be anyone in that room. Look at the car park, honey, there's only a dozen cars. If there's no one there, I'll come straight back here and we'll go for lunch.'_

'_Blaine, please don't go. If you had only told me-'_

_An amused grin. 'Aw, sweetie, if I'd told you, you wouldn't have given me an answer and I'd have had to wipe out every room. Remember how this works? I saved you the heartbreak of knowing you caused mass homicide. This way, only one room is affected.'_

Before Kurt could find the words to argue, Blaine had slammed the door shut and locked the car. Kurt had watched, frozen, as the young man strutted across the tarmac with the light brown bat swinging casually in his hand and his feet were carrying him towards the block of motel rooms. Number twenty-four was up on the second floor. Blaine took the steps up two at a time. No one else could be seen anywhere: it was a hot day and anyone with sense would be inside taking advantage of the air conditioning. _Please, don't let there be anyone in that room. Let it be empty. Let the people be out sightseeing or something! _He could only sit there and wait. Blaine's dignified hand rapped on the door. It remained closed...for all of five seconds. The poor man, with his hand still on the handle, was not expecting the butt of the bat to crash into his face. He stumbled back into the darkness as shadows of other occupants of the room rapidly moved around in reaction. Without a care in the world, Blaine sauntered in after him and expertly kicked the door shut behind him.

Though he could hear nothing, Kurt's mind was more than creative enough to imagine the carnage which was occurring beyond his view. His hands flew to his mouth and he turned away to duck his head between his legs. He then started to hit his head off the dashboard in the hope of blackening out as the horror unfolded nearby. _I've caused this. Those people...I could have chosen any other number! Kurt, why did you let your stupid guard down, you idiot!_ What seemed like only moments later, the distinct sound of a door shutting brought his eyes up once more. Blaine was walking back towards him, his clothes, face and arms partly stained in fresh blood. The bat was now dark with a deep shade of burgundy-red, and he tossed it aside onto the road before climbing back into the car. Kurt could only turn away with sickened tears brimming in his eyes.

'_Only three lives, Kurt.' A squeeze on his leg. 'It could have been a lot worse.'_

Kurt had cried himself silent. As they headed back towards town, Blaine mentioned that he would need to buy some new clothes if he wanted to enter their hotel again later. He had stopped at the supermarket and whipped off his shirt, using some of his bottled water to wash his skin clean whilst commenting that if anyone asked about his pants, he would simply say the stains were paint. Kurt didn't listen: he didn't care. Blaine left him out on the kerb with a soda, urging him to 'shake it off' before he returned. So now he sat alone. He was aware that perhaps an outsider looking in on his situation would insist he go find help in the very public area, but things were never going to be that simple. He knew why: Blaine could not be stopped. If he got away now, he would only be postponing a worse punishment for later. And then Finn...Kurt could not allow Finn to be in danger and that belief was only strengthened when he witnessed the aftermath of Blaine's murders. All he could do was wait for his captor's return.

And strangely enough, Kurt knew that his 'lessons' were not over for the day.

* * *

Sometimes, Kurt hated being right. Tonight, he had prayed that he was wrong but, as Blaine had pulled off the freeway and headed towards a high-end housing estate, he knew it was no use pretending. He said nothing as they drove up and down countless streets whilst Blaine sought out the appropriate house. A strange sense of resignation had overcome the teen and he hated himself for being unable to bring his righteousness out from hiding: a sure sign that he had still not got over the day's earlier bloodshed. But what could he do? Pleading with Blaine would do nothing but anger him, refusing to comply would result in more violence, and he had long abandoned the concept of 'hope'. So, as the car slowly crunched up the driveway of a well-to-do, middle-class home in the cool light of dusk, Kurt stared straight into the dashboard and awaited Blaine's instruction to wait for him to return.

'I'll be right back.'

Kurt felt his head nod ever so slightly. His eyes could not look up to the house. He feared seeing the shadows of the people inside. He'd have to meet them eventually but Kurt wanted to avoid any sight of them until it was forced upon him.

Many minutes past but he could sense his wait coming to an end. The car door opened. Blaine stepped aside as the boy got out wordlessly and he led him up the immaculate lawn and over the threshold into the house. _Think of the greater good, Kurt,_ said a voice in his head. However his heart screamed in anger: _Greater good? How could following his orders be for the greater good? The greater good would be to take down Blaine and end this once and for all!_ A firm hand touched his shoulder and caused him to look up at the scene before them. A husband. A wife. A young boy. They all knelt down in the same position as the family from a few days back: on their knees, feet and wrists tied behind their back with their mouths gagged. This...this was a real family. The full package. On the mantel sat a photo frame showing the three on some type of safari, and further along – in pride of place – a wedding photo.

'Kurt, a word of advice,' Blaine murmured in his ear as he prepped his gun, 'The longer you take and the more you think about it, the harder it's going to be. Pick one, don't over-think it.' In the far corners of Kurt's mind he knew his words were solid in truth. But...could he choose? He looked at each frightened face and began to question whether or not he'd be doing the best thing either way. If he had witnessed his father's death in front of his very eyes, would he have survived mentally? Would he have wanted to live, knowing that someone he loved died in place of him? The answer was obvious. But how could he accept that letting Blaine kill three instead of one was better? His mind whizzed and pounded. Blaine was right; he shouldn't have thought about it. The boy...there was no way Kurt could be responsible for a kid's death. Losing a child was supposedly the worst possible pain any human being could experience. So, did that mean he had to decide between the mother and father? His stomach heaved suddenly and he turned away into the hallway to throw up. In his kindness, Blaine waited patiently in the living room and said nothing as the teen staggered back to the doorway looking lost and pitiful. 'If it helps,' the gun wielding man continued to speak in a quiet, slow manner, 'I already explained the situation. They know what's coming. They all pleaded for you to pick them.' Kurt squeezed his eyes shut and wished Blaine had not spoken at all.

_Mother, or Father? What kind of choice was that?_

Kurt himself knew what it was like to grow up without a parent, but he could not claim that his incredible upbringing by his dad meant he would have been better than his mom. Truthfully...Kurt needed both. And he didn't get to have both. _Don't look at them, Kurt! Don't look in their eyes!_ He had to choose: time was running out. Blaine was losing patience and was licking his lips in irritation, having clearly expected Kurt to have chosen by now. 'I...' Kurt shook his head and willed himself to say something. But he couldn't. His voice left him, unable to doom someone to their death. So, Kurt just raised his hand and pointed in the parents' direction. He deliberately did not look up to see who he had chosen.

Blaine looked to where he was pointing and smiled. 'I figured.' Kurt squeezed his eyes shut once more and listened to a single gunshot ring through the large house. He heard muffled yelling and screaming as the other family members reacted in loud wails of anguish. _Don't look. Don't look. Don't-_ An arm slipped around his waist and a hand cupped under his chin to force his head up. He accidently looked.

As Blaine then rapidly ushered them out the door again and all but manhandled Kurt back into their car, Kurt knew he would never get that image out of his head of the father and son looking on at the fallen form of the most important woman in their lives. 

* * *

'I'm proud of you,'

Tucked in the corner of the room, Kurt did not react at all to the comment. His eyes were still raw and red, his nose and throat struggling to take in breath but his light-headedness found it difficult to care. Blaine had supplied him with a pill when he had not calmed down from his meltdown after arriving back to their hotel. Kurt had let it be pushed into his mouth and he swallowed it down quickly in the dire hope that it would cause him to lose grip on reality long enough to forget about the horror he just caused. That had been an hour ago.

Blaine had sat with him on the floor in silence for most of that time, but had now stood up and was pawing at a room service menu. 'It's never going to be as difficult as that ever again. Honestly, I didn't think you'd pull through. There were three bullets in that gun and-'

'Please,' Kurt's weak voice interrupted, 'Just...don't.'

Blaine nodded in understanding. He then disappeared into the bathroom and moments later the sound of gushing water could be heard. He was running a bath. When he returned, he was in the middle of stripping off. Kurt saw him stripping down to his boxers in his peripheral vision but still jumped in surprise when he felt hands on him. 'Come on, Kurt...let me take care of you.' Without aiding the process at all, Kurt watched as Blaine removed his clothes until he was naked. A hand slipped into his and with gentle tugs he was led to the bath. Beautiful lilac bubbles almost overflowed the tub as Kurt was lifted into the water. Blaine followed in after him. 'Sit down, beautiful. Rest back on me.' The warm water swallowed their bodies whole as they sat, Kurt complying by turning away from the other man and letting himself be nestled between his legs. Blaine's chin rested on his shoulder and he sighed deeply. 'Close your eyes. Just relax. I know it's hard but you have to try.' Arms slipped around Kurt's slim waist to pull him closer and the teen found himself quite unconcerned that his captor's member was flush up against his ass. Strangely, the only thought that occurred to him was that Blaine was now touching him again. His treatment was going back to normal as if...as if Kurt had pleased him enough for this 'reward' of affection. Soft humming from Blaine's firm chest could have almost rocked Kurt to sleep as the pill he had taken caused his brain to feel like a ball of cotton wool. His eyelids fell and he was lost in darkness.

Not much later, Blaine had found himself a flannel and was using the violet-scented soap water to wash Kurt's limp arms. He continued humming as he placed tender kisses up his long, exposed neck as his cloth moved to the teen's chest. 'Blaine?' Kurt's voice was small and distant.

'Mmm?'

'I can't do that again...' The flannel rubbed circles down his belly.

Blaine smiled and nudged his head on his. 'Of course you can, baby. You'll do a lot more, too. We'll get you lots of practice.' Kurt did not respond; his head rolled over onto Blaine's collar and the soft breaths of sleep caused the other man's smile to grow fondly. His cloth-free hand smoothed back those rich, brown locks so that the angel's perfect face was completely visible to him. 'I'm not going to give up on you,' he whispered, dipping himself down lower into the water so that he and Kurt' heads were the only parts above the surface. Fingers roamed skin in hiding. 'These next few weeks are going to be tough on you. I know it. But I'll get you through. I have a plan for us, beautiful, and one day you'll understand why I had to destroy you.'

Kurt slept on, unaware of the words murmuring against his skin or the back-and-forth waves slapping against the tub as the body behind his moved into a more pleasurable position.

* * *

A.N. Thanks for reading, and please leave a message below or PM me to let me know what you thought! Have a great weekend :)


	5. Desire to Stay Numb

A.N. In sad news (for me, anyway), I lost more readers. Four let me know they wouldn't be returning to read any more so I imagine others also made the same decision without commenting. Like I said before, I wholeheartedly understand why this new direction of plot is a little too far for some and I want to say that as gutted as I am I still give a massive thanks for sticking it out until now. A few years ago I would have considered re-doing the plot to not upset the few people I had who were good enough to come back to read updates. I've done it before and I have to admit it is not fun to abandon planned events in a fic when it's the story you really want to write. I also recently lost a fic I was reading because the author received a lot of flame (I'm talking abusive!) reviews and he/she didn't know how to make everyone happy and ended up discontinuing. Trouble is I'm not his/her only fan and now we are left wondering what the great ending was going to be. I don't know how many are reading this but as long as one person wants my original ending then I'm going to write it. I get that reading and writing fanfiction is a 'hobby', but I get a lot of joy from it so thank you awesome people who have been encouraging me. We're all Glee Buds here. :D

Replies:

GleechickFan1001: Okay, here's the thing: I have zero intention of abandoning this fic but your review was just to sorely needed that I want to thank you for your kind words when I was struggling to work up the motivation to start working on it again. You awesome person, you!

Charmedmich: Only a hint of a sex scene here but I plan on a full-scale one in the next chapter! I too have been wondering about the lack of Klaine bedroom time...

gunnihal: Hahahaha don't worry, you aren't missing anything - I'm throwing a lot of random stuff out to hopefully keep readers guessing, and your review made me laugh a lot. Thanks!

tearbos: You saw the movie! Yay! I feel like this fic has become a monster of it's own, a shadow of the movie that gave me the idea, but still glad references could be spotted because it might have been a nice distraction from all the depressive lows the film gives...

**WARNING**: (It was recommended I add this in case the content upsets some readers) This chapter is continuously graphic. It was not pleasant to write because it is essentially never-ending, needless violence however in a story when Blaine is trying to change Kurt to be a senseless killer like him it is a necessary part of the process. I don't currently see another chapter focusing on the bloodier side of Blaine's life in this way, so at the end of the chapter in the 'A.N.' I will give a one-sentence summery of Klaine's chunk so you do not need to read the distressing parts. If you read it and think 'What's the big deal?' then cool, I just want to cover all bases. Also, sorry for being distant with Blaine in this update - I'm saving up a lot for chapter 6.

* * *

Desire to Stay Numb

* * *

_Surviving victims' accounts echo that of earlier incidents from this week, forcing police officials to declare there are cross-country serial killers now at large. Speaking for the family, one representative states that one man (believed to be the man named 'Blaine' from the Indiana killing last Wednesday) invaded their house shortly after 7PM. After tying up the five occupants, he left and returned with a second man – confirmed to be kidnapped Kurt Hummel, 18 – and reportedly forced Hummel to select one person to die at the hands of 'Blaine'. Hummel was apparently under intense duress and investigators suspect he is still being held against his will and made to go along with his captor's demands. Last week, the Wade family account told that the threat made to the teenager was that if he did not choose one person, the killer would murder everyone. This twisted form of 'one life for many' has many campaigning outside local police stations for renewed efforts in their search. _

_Head campaigner in Cincinnati, Shelley White, states in her public address: 'We need to save the boy now. His face should be in every store window, on every billboard and in everyone's mind so the next time someone passes him they will know to call the police. The killer has gone from shooting, to stabbing and now, in this most recent atrocity, prolonged violence by beating the victim to death and though my heart breaks for the family, none of us can imagine the torture Kurt Hummel is undergoing. We need to find him now. End the terror of this madman. End Hummel's torment.'_

_Special hotlines have been set up for those who believe they have seen either Hummel or his kidnapper (pictured below) with volunteer agents ready to take calls-_

Hands quaking in fury, Finn put down the newspaper and leaned to tuck his head between his legs. He breathed in heavily. He had been reading the article aloud but could no longer take the story they were telling. He didn't want to believe it. 'I can't believe he's now doing _this_. He's torturing Kurt by dragging him into his scene and all for his twisted kicks! He's still getting the same sick pleasure from playing with Kurt, toying with his mind!'

The young patient-slash-prisoner sitting upright on the hospital bed watched him with amused eyes. The story had certainly captured his interest but he was not shocked in any way. 'Oh, Finn, you're so wrong, it makes me want to laugh.' He chided casually with a flicker of a smile. It brought the ex-quarterback's glaring eyes up to him, anger not dwindling in the slightest. Undeterred, Sebastian continued, 'Blaine isn't _playing_. Trust me, that there,' he motioned his head to the article, 'is not Blaine's idea of fun. Mind games are like foreplay: they are sexy, they're sometimes necessary – but they fall flat if there's no 'grand finale'.'

'You mean the kill.'

'The _kills. _Plural.' Sebastian corrected as he moved his head and tried to fluff up his own pillow. When he failed, he frowned. 'It'll be frustrating for Blaine to leave anyone alive. It's like...an itch. In the games, everybody dies. Why do you think we came after you a second time?'

By now, speaking of the events which took place at both the Hudson-Hummel household and vacation home by the lake had become commonplace. Finn barely spared a thought at how sinister it had felt hearing Sebastian's laid-back thoughts on what would forever be the most heart-wrenching and soul destroying nights of his life. Seeing Sebastian himself every day for weeks had also taken the immediate sting out of the memories: it was almost normal. 'You came because you were angry that we 'won'. That and because one of you had become obsessed with one of your victims.' Finn replied dryly as he folded up the newspaper and threw it in the trash can. He then leaned back in his chair and took a steadying breath. He could sense that his quip had taken some of the wind out of the other's sails but he was in no mood to play up to his desire for utter smugness.

Irked, the patient let his cuffs rattle against the metal railings. 'We came because neither of us could sleep right knowing you both lived and breathed when no other player did. And you were _kids_!' He paused, before adding 'no offence.' He straightened up and his tone turned to one a teacher may use to impart wisdom. 'Let me put it this way: Blaine having people at his mercy and then walking away is like rubbing up on someone hot as hell, getting so close to coming and then having your nuts buried in ice.' He pulled a face. 'It _sucks_. It's painful and it feels wrong without the long-awaited release. And there's no game to it. If I know Blaine, he won't be able to put up with this compromise much longer.'

'That's what you call a compromise?' Finn snapped. Sebastian shrugged. It wasn't like the quarterback didn't understand what he was trying to explain but his heart kept aching with the hurt saying '_but this just isn't right!_´ Several long moments of silence ensued. At last, Finn refocused on the topic at hand. 'So if Blaine isn't getting any satisfaction, why is he doing it?'

For once since their arrangement began, Sebastian did not seem to want to gloat on his answer. 'He's laying the groundwork for his ultimate goal: to create a new partner to play the games.'

Finn's jaw dropped. '...Kurt? He wants _Kurt_ to-'

'To take my place, yes.'

Struggling with what he was hearing, Finn stood and ran his finger through his hair roughly. 'But that will never happen! Kurt isn't a killer.'

'A harsh fact of life, little boy: people change.' Sebastian stated. He looked out the tiny window and his voice turned thoughtful. 'People break.'

'So he is trying to force Kurt to do things against his will,' Finn growled, his knuckles crunching as he balled them up into tight fists. Willing himself to go back in time and change _something_ about that last night he saw his brother's face, he cursed Blaine into the depths of whatever hell existed in this world. He didn't want to think about all the ways Blaine would terrorise Kurt, manipulating and scourging him in some futile attempts to change his very being. All he wanted in that moment was to have Blaine in front of him, alone, so he could beat every inch of his body into a fleshy mess.

However, he was broken out of his miserable fury by Sebastian's condescending tone once more. 'Ugh, you are so simplistic, I might puke.' Sebastian rolled his eyes. 'That's only the first step and it serves a purpose: to break Kurt's entire being.' Finn stared, bulging eyes as confused as they were wide. The wounded criminal sighed and considered his ex-partner with deep thought. 'Kurt wouldn't know that's the goal, of course. Blaine is probably passing this stage off as, I don't know, training. Telling Kurt that he wants to teach him. But he can't begin to teach him until all the horror breaks him down into nothing. Then Blaine will be free to rebuild Kurt in any way he wants.' He let out a dark, humourless laugh. 'And knowing Blaine, he'll make him obedient and blood-thirsty enough to start injecting some games into the visits.'

The very idea made Finn's stomach turn on itself, but his mind spoke over his nausea. 'No way,' he shook his head firmly. The other man gazed at him with interest as he waved away the concept entirely. 'Blaine thinks he loves Kurt – _loves_ him. Why would he destroy the goodness in Kurt when _that_ was what appealed to him in the first place?'

'Easy. Boredom.' The reply came as fast as a bullet and given in all seriousness. 'Goodness bores easily. Cute at first and obviously what endeared Blaine to Kurtikins but a shitty trait if you're looking for a lifelong partnership doing what we would do. He needs a real companion.' At last, the realness of his words hit Finn hard and he fell back on his seat again. The harrowing realisation was more than even the article himself. Sebastian was being...honest. And Finn wished he wasn't. What would it take to break someone like Kurt? And, more importantly, would Kurt survive long enough for Finn to find him?

* * *

Numb. That is all Kurt felt.

Each time Kurt had been elbowed into a gym locker, felt the viciousness of a cruel name spat at his face, or dropped into a wet, sordid dumpster, he had let himself be overcome with numbness. The ability to cut off the hurt and fear had proven to be invaluable for him just surviving high school. And he prided himself on it. However, now Kurt felt nothing but shame as his mind shut down in emotional numbness. That is what Blaine had pushed him to in the weeks leading up to that afternoon. He sat cross-legged on the living room floor of the condo Blaine was renting, staring out the open balcony doors onto the fruitful garden down below. There was no breeze whistling through the trees but the air conditioning from the kitchen kept him from sweating in the summer heat. The tiles he sat on were hot to the touch from the glare of the sun. _Oh, so you can feel that but not anything else?_ An ugly, disappointed voice spoke somewhere between his ears. It hissed at him and his breathing grew unsteady.

These past few weeks...

All those times when he had thought Blaine had shown him the worst of all mankind's capabilities, he had been wrong. So incredibly wrong. Over fifty people were now dead since the murder of that poor mother – and the lucky people were the ones to die early on in Kurt's 'training'. Blaine had explained that he viewed working with guns to be 'impersonal' and therefore not a favourite of his. Stabbing, it seemed, was preferable. That had been the next step up in their lessons. Torturous and vicious, Kurt still could not control his screams when he watched Blaine tear into someone's fresh with his blades. Often, Blaine would cover his mouth with tape because Kurt's own wails were louder than the victim's.

'_Shh, baby, you need to get used to _their_ screams. You need to let them wash over you. The sooner you do, the sooner you'll be immune. Wouldn't you like that?'_

Kurt would wrestle against his bindings – usually a rope around his wrists tied to a banister or radiator - and beg Blaine through his own sobs to stop. He'd beg for the person to be left alone. He'd beg for them to meet their end by merciful gunshots rather than sickening knife punctures. He was ignored every time. There was so much more blood than Kurt had seen before and the sound of ripping flesh haunted Kurt's dreams to the point where he could not sleep except from when he collapsed in exhaustion.

'_Blaine...'_

'_Mmm?' _

'_My dad. Did he die from...' He can't even finish. _

'_You mean did I stab him?' He did not need confirmation to know that was indeed the question. 'No, Kurt. He was shot through the head.' _

'_Oh.' Why did this not bring more tears? Was it true that it was really relief coursing through his veins? In a messed up...fucked up way, it was. And if Kurt could hate himself any more than he already did, he would have in that moment. _

Due to the reaction he got from Kurt when a knife was his weapon of choice, Blaine resorted back to it even after he decided to introduce hanging. He insisted it was because he wanted Kurt to feel as comfortable as physically possible seeing it happen but the teenager knew that something behind Blaine's deep hazel eyes was getting a very pleasurable rise watching him writhe in torment. It was something he just could not get from forcing Kurt to watch the life drain from a person's colourful face as rope pressure around their necks stole their very last breath. Blaine almost complimented him after the third hanging, commenting that he must already have a natural stomach for it. He even went as far as suggesting Kurt master that form of killing first, as if it was already decided that Kurt would succumb to his twisted desire. His punishment for not agreeing to Blaine's suggestion was being forced to watch the next victim be hacked to pieces.

Even from Blaine's view, the lessons were proving to be debilitating: Kurt's body seemed incapable of functioning when the mental images of all the gore flashed in his mind's eye. Food couldn't be held down long, and Blaine had taken to holding bottles of water to Kurt's mouth the way a parent would feed a newborn baby. Somehow, it kept the teen alive and conscious enough for Blaine to continue training. Kurt had fooled himself into thinking he could not see anything worse than what he had seen that month.

That was until last night. Last night, Blaine did not take out his gun. Or his knife. Or his noose. No, Blaine used his own bare hands in the home of two college students. Jock types. With the threat of his gun, he subdued both of them long enough to tie them up before strapping Kurt to a radiator. Then the teen was asked the simple yet sadistic question – _'Who lives tonight, baby?'_ \- and the silent yet dooming point of a finger decided the rest of their evening. Blaine had nodded and then sent the condemned hurtling to the ground with a punch to his face hard enough to cause the victim's nose to explode right off the bat. The change of attack had caught Kurt off-guard. He watched Blaine straddle the man, raise his hands and beat fist after fist into the vulnerable body beneath him. It took only a few short seconds for Kurt to realise that this was how Blaine planned to kill: he was going to beat him to death. The barbaric nature and the heaving yells of pain almost seemed new. And in a way, it was: it was a whole new side of violence Kurt had never seen first-hand before now. Not even when Blaine and Sebastian had first entered Kurt's life had they ever been so...purposefully brutal. With blood draining from his face at a rapid rate and a whisper so weak it was almost non-existent, Kurt told Blaine to stop. He didn't. 'Stop. _Stop. _Blaine, p-please, just stop – can't take any-'

_Crack! _Something within the student's body broke audibly. And something snapped inside of Kurt. He needed out. His eyes could not cope with the realness or the depraved power of violence so, without thinking, he knocked his head against the wall in desperation. When he came around about twenty minutes later, he was bleeding profusely from his temple and a furious Blaine was leaning over him. Fearful concern filled his eyes, initially confusing Kurt as he tried to recall where he was. 'Don't...' Blaine was growling at him through clenched teeth, '_ever_ do that again.' Scared and only just remembering what he was trying to escape from, Kurt nodded feverishly. His punishment for upsetting Blaine this time – because there always had to be punishments – was to watch the second student (who was deemed 'saved' and had been abandoned at the other side of the room) beaten to death like his roommate had been. Kurt was not able to escape from that. By the time Blaine was finished, he had removed his shirt and his entire body was painted red, his hair slicked back with blood. His fists were monstrous, having also beaten themselves into pieces as well. He turned on Kurt and approached. Kurt had screamed for him to get away. He was untied from the radiator and thrown into the centre of the room – tripping halfway over the corpse of student number one – and his clothes torn away mere seconds later. Arms trapped him in place as nails dug deep into the skin of his hip and shoulder. Every show of resistance was promptly met with tyrannical retribution. His whole body was now littered in fresh gashes and bruises. If there was any blessing that came that night, it was that Kurt was in so much pain and distress that he barely remembered how roughly Blaine rammed into him, causing carpet burns up the length of his front from sheer force. The second blessing was Blaine making a passing comment that morning that perhaps Kurt was not ready to see that side of his skills just yet. Kurt had said nothing. Months of sleeping next to Blaine had gotten easier until he had witnessed what his fists were truly capable of. Dizzying terror rendered Kurt unable to do very much.

When Blaine left shortly after lunchtime, Kurt had worn his emotions down to the bare bone and found shameful solace in just being numb.

A creak and a quiet thud disturbed the silence of the condo: Blaine had returned. Kurt's eyes did not stray from the cloudless sky he had been watching for the last few hours. He listened to the man's gentle humming, the refrigerator and kitchen cupboard doors opening and closing (implying Blaine had returned with groceries) and then the approaching footsteps. A loving hand smoothed into his hair and rocked Kurt's head back.

'Kurt, sweetheart, you're exactly where I left you - Have you been here all this time?' He stooped down to be by his side and took notice of the empty plate at Kurt's foot. 'You finished your sandwich?' He asked in happy surprise. 'Baby, that's great! I told you your stomach was getting stronger. Does that mean you'll try some dinner tonight?'

Kurt used to being able to get away without supplying answers to many of Blaine's questions, however Blaine was now expecting an answer. 'I don't think I'll be hungry.' Kurt replied. His voice sounded so distant and void of emotion. He was lost in more ways than he knew. 'And...If we're going out again tonight-' the very notion of it made him shiver, 'I-I don't want to throw it all back up.'

Blaine made a noise of understanding and reached round to give the teen a one-armed hug which enveloped his whole skinny frame. 'If that's how you feel, we'll maybe hold off dinner until tomorrow.' As much as it wasn't a surprise that Blaine still planned to kill again later, it pierced like a dagger in the heart anyway. 'But listen: we're only stopping off at one house tonight. You don't even need to decide who to kill because there's only one guy living there. I've got him prepared already.' That explained why he was gone for so long. Feeling was slowly seeping back into Kurt's bones: one house and one kill was less than he was now used to which meant there was more to the plan than Blaine was willing to reveal. There was fear of this unknown.

Blaine then stood up and petted his head again. Kurt's cheek bumped against the man's crotch – a deliberate act, he was sure – and then the warmth of the other's body was gone. Blaine whistled cheerfully as he stalked away.

* * *

The man lying on the carpet was named Bill. Bill was a labourer in his mid-forties and had liver spots on his bald head. From the looks of his small house, he lived alone. There were no photos on display, nor were there any signs of personal touches like ornaments or books. However, in the corner of his television room stood the most beautiful upright piano Kurt had ever laid eyes on. Smooth chestnut with hand-crafted legs, it was first noticed when the teen entered and was trying not to meet Bill's panicked stare.

Speaking through his gag, the man demanded to know what was going on. He had been left there on the floor for hours before Blaine brought Kurt over, and unfortunately he had no doubt assumed he was safe until then. Kurt looked to Blaine and expected the other man to get down to business. The rope burns around the teen's wrists were steeling themselves for their binds – only, Blaine ignored them. He ignored Bill also. Instead, he crossed the room to the piano.

His fingers ran across the smooth wood panelling, accumulating a small amount of dust on his hands. A faint smile broached his lips. After a few seconds, he broke out of his daydream long enough to say 'Take a seat and relax, Kurt. I'll be a minute here.' Though spoken casually, Kurt took it as an order and promptly sat on the edge of the settee. The man on the ground watched and seemed to understand Kurt was fearful from his awkwardly stiff stature and shaking hands. Bill at least had the decency to not start pleading for Kurt to help him. For that, Kurt was grateful.

With a couple of thuds, Blaine played a D note four times to hear the condition of the piano. He then tried a chord. The sound wasn't pristine, but it was solid enough for Blaine to choose to then sit down on the stool. His feet tested the pedals and his hands stretched out over the awaiting keys. Could Blaine play? That question was answered the moment his fingers pressed down.

Kurt recognised it after a while: Beethoven's _Moonlight Sonata_. Slow and eerie, it did nothing to aid his nerves. However, even though a fairly decent pianist himself, Kurt knew that he could not play it on his best day. Yet, the striking demon of a man played as if it were as simple as counting to three. It was tragic and stunning all at once, impressive yet in some manner belittled by Blaine's narrowed eyes which gazed off ahead of him. Uneasiness swept over the teenager again the longer Blaine played. Bill stared between them searching for clues of his fate. Kurt wanted to interrupt Blaine's performance, selfishly wishing to get this late-night visit over with as soon as possible and Blaine seemed to be deliberately dragging it out. But then that would mean the end for Bill.

'I'll be honest, you have taken so much longer than I thought you would to reach this stage,' Blaine spoke so softly that Kurt almost missed his words amidst his own panic. The keys continued to sing their wondrous song for Blaine's approval but he sighed over them. 'I want you to advance. I want to have you on the next step. I just hope...' His fingers stopped moving and the strings within the large beauty of an instrument were left hanging mid-way through a bar. The notes faded off. 'that you won't disappoint me.'

Kurt blinked. Cold sweat was forming and his heart beat harder, though the threat he feared was unknown. He stared at the man across from him waiting for more to come. But Blaine was done talking. He was also done playing. With a swift, graceful movement, the handsome killer was on his feet and striding towards Bill. The older man tried to roll away but it was all in vain: one hand rolled him onto his back again and another hand brought a knife downwards onto his chest.

Kurt's breath caught in his throat. It had been so unexpected after the softness of Blaine's words but it had happened. Already hot tears were in his eyes and every muscle lurched causing him to fall to his knees. Blaine did not even glance at him; he just jerked the blade clean out of the hole it had made and brought it back down five more times, stabbing his whole front with quick, silent jabs.

'_Blaine!_' Kurt gasped and his voice broke apart. For once unrestrained, he could not help but run against his captor's side and shove him away. Blaine let himself be pushed back – after all, the damage was well and truly done – and he turned to sit back at the piano. Kurt kneeled by Bill and his quaking hands tried to press down on the wounds as if he could somehow reverse Blaine's actions. Bill was straining and twisting against the ropes around him and screaming behind his gag but his eyes bulged up at Kurt in agony. He was pleading for help now, only Kurt could not think of a single way he would get out of this alive. 'Blaine,' He found himself weeping. Tears splashed down onto Bill's shirt and Kurt viciously wiped at his eyes. He was helpless. '_Blaine!'_

'I used the _tardus mortem_ method.' Blaine smiled, wiping the knife against the stool seat material. 'It means 'slow death'. Six deliberate punctures to deliver pain whilst gradually filling up his lungs with his own blood. Fatal but slow working.' He watched Kurt with mild interest as the teen struggled to control his breathing while his hands were stained dark red with the blood pouring out of each gaping, black hole. 'He'll take about an hour to die, I'd guess.' Blaine continued, his eyes growing dark and hungry. He licked his lips. 'And that hour will be so _excruciating_...'

'Wh-why would you do that?' Kurt whimpered quietly, trying not to imagine how torturous this man's final minutes alive would be. A full hour? Kurt couldn't accept that.

'Why?' Blaine seemed surprised at Kurt's naivety. He stood and approached him from behind. He then pressed a cold, metal object into his scarlet hands. His handgun. He didn't need to explain himself any further, but he did anyway. 'I won't do anything else to him. He's a dead man now anyway. If you want to do the humane thing, you'll put him out of his misery now.'

As if the cool metal was burning his skin, Kurt practically hurled the weapon back to Blaine but the man refused to accept it. 'I can't!' he cried out in both fury and terror.

'If you can't, then you accept responsibility for Bill's suffering.' Blaine stated firmly. He stared Kurt down, bringing the boy onto his knees from nothing more than the intensity of those hazel eyes. 'He'll die slow, Kurt. And I will make you watch until it's over. Either that or you show mercy – as disgusting as I think it is. Whatever you choose, you'll learn from it.'

So many times since first laying eyes on Blaine, Kurt knew he could never hate him any more than he did. But somehow Blaine found new ways to tear his heart and soul apart for the sake of his own entertainment. _Block it out, Kurt_. The voice in his head was back. It sounded more like him than it normally did. _You aren't a killer. If you do this, he'll make you do worse. In any other situation, a mercy killing is the decent thing to do but not now! Be strong, Kurt, block it out!_

Blaine removed Bill's gag and the man erupted in a piercing shriek of pain mixed with gurgled blood spitting out and spraying the area with ruby droplets. The hair on Kurt's skin stood on end and the sounds got Kurt in the gut. He doubled over. Blaine's comforting hand found the back of his neck, massaging it as lips were lowered to his ear. 'Just think of a wounded animal. You can't save it. It's in so much pain; it's cruel to make him suffer when one quick pull of a trigger will give it the peace it sorely needs. Stop dragging this out. Listen to him: he's begging you.'

Bill was indeed begging. If his eyes could have found Kurt's face in their red misted vision, they would be gazing up for mercy. _Mercy_. 'I-I can't-!'

'You can.'

'Please - You do it.'

'Do not argue with me. You can do it.' The gun was manhandled back between his fingers. It felt so heavy, he could barely hold on. A choked wheeze followed by another pitiful gurgle caused Kurt to look down at Bill then immediately turn away. He had no choice: no matter what Blaine's overall motive for this, Kurt could not let the dying man wait any longer. He shut his eyes tight. Swaying hands were raised up, using the weight of the gun to steady themselves as much as possible.

He didn't give himself time to second-guess himself: he just pulled the trigger.

_No – no – no –no-!_

_BANG!_

At once the noises stopped. Bill's jerking ceased and Kurt let the gun slip through his fingers and clatter to the floor. _I...I didn't do it. I couldn't have. _But there was silence. Behind him, Blaine continued to support his frame but had otherwise not reacted. _I didn't do it. There's no way I could-_

And then he looked.

A strangled sob escape through his quivering lips and his legs instantly tried to kick him far away from the horror he caused. Blaine's awaiting arms caught him and he pulled him along the ground until they were pressed flat against the sideboard of the piano. Kurt clawed at him blindly, unable to un-see the shattered skull and mesh of head tissue. He struggled against the hold but was striving desperately to be lost in it. Burying his face and screaming into Blaine's chest, he thrashed about. Blaine caught every swipe and was careful to not hurt him when doing so. He let Kurt wail and kick and punch until the younger man had tired himself out and, when his cries were quiet enough for Blaine to speak over, the smug criminal hushed him with ease. 'It's okay, baby, it's okay. Listen...let's take a little break from all this killing, huh? How does that sound?' Kurt tugged at his collar and was becoming too delirious to take in anything. Nevertheless, Blaine relaxed and savoured his victory. 'That's it...let it all out. I'm here, Kurt, I'm here.'

* * *

A.N. One sentence summary: Blaine forces Kurt to perform a mercy killing, prompting Kurt to break down and Blaine to suggest they take a 'break'. A bit all over the place thanks to being away from the fic for so long but hopefully got a lot of messy business out the way. Next up: An argument leads Sebastian to reveal what he can actually offer Finn – an actual shot at finding Blaine. Blaine's past is questioned, explored and all in the name of getting Kurt to play a game with him. This will include flashbacks, in a twisted way. Oh, and a sex scene. Because I haven't written one in a while. Please review or PM and check out the slight alterations to my future fic list on my profile.


	6. Tell Me Lies

A.N. A two month unscheduled hiatus? Well...this is awkward. Apologies for the delay: I started a pretty intense course and even though I desperately wanted to write the opportunity just didn't happen. This chapter will hopefully make up for some of it. I wrote it in drips and drabs so the sync is all out but if I didn't post what I had now then I might not get the chance to re-draft until next month and, well, I've been working on this too long and if I read it over again I'm going to go insane. XD

**Warnings**: A suicide attempt, the standard gore, sexual scenes,

**PLEASE READ FIRST:** This chapter focuses on Blaine's past. Some parts will just be talked about by Blaine through dialogue, other parts through monologue form (hopefully it'll be obvious when it starts and ends), and a couple of parts are told as flashbacks. This'll get confusing, I know, so I am sorry. It's about time we learned some things about Blaine, huh? I'm taking the opportunity to give a more human/normal side of Blaine but it isn't as fun to write so I'll be back to creepy!Blaine later! Also, since Kurt has been with Blaine so long by this point, I wanted to give him periods of normalising his situation. He can't be petrified 24/7. Sometimes he'll take comfort in Blaine if it's on offer, even if it means hating himself afterwards.

* * *

Tell Me Lies

* * *

Faces...those faces. Everywhere. Their eyes so accusing and glowing in the dark all around.

Kurt was panicking. Pressed up against the bathroom stall, slippery tiles pushing on his chest and cheek from one side and Blaine's full naked frame on the other, he struggled to breathe in the steamy air. Teeth bit into his shoulder forming vicious marks all over his wet, creamy skin. But the worst part was the hands. Nails dug into him as if securing him in place by instilling a fear of torn flesh as wide, exposed palms slapped him. He jerk into the rock-hard tiles in response over and over. The sharp sting of each spank echoed like the sound in his ears.

_Smack – smack!_

'Mmm, baby, you taste so good,' Blaine growled like a ravenous beast in the briefest of moments he took away from abusing Kurt's shoulder. The teen's heart ached as if its pounding was actually hammering against his confined chest. It seemed like the moist air was not reaching his lungs.

Those eyes were bleeding from every corner of the bathroom. They seemed to be glaring at Kurt as he tried to block them out. All those he witnessed dying at Blaine's hand. The one man who died from Kurt's own actions. A staggered gasp escaped him and he knew his legs were giving way. He hoped to fall down against the shower drain – maybe the smattering of the hard-hitting droplets would wash away his guilt? As though sensing his lover's oncoming weakness, Blaine wrapped his arms tight around his waist and pressed his hips inwards somehow sticking Kurt to the stall wall. 'Stand up, Kurt,' Blaine ordered.

'I-I can't-' Kurt struggled to say. He truly did try to keep his legs straight – especially when the firm shaft from behind rubbed shamelessly between them. The man behind him made a noise of irritation.

The boy was then whirled around for a brief examination. All blood had been washed away from them both, no matter how stained Kurt personally felt. Blaine seemed to prefer screwing in the shower but Kurt was in no state to sustain his typical rough treatment and remain standing in the process. The taps were turned off and the air grew even hotter somehow. The shower door was opened and Kurt was urged out. He reached for a towel on the nearby rack. 'Oh, no you don't. We are far from done.' Blaine grabbed him by his dripping wet hair and dragged out of the bathroom and into the hallway. It was no surprise that with his legs already giving way he lost balance immediately and fell to his knees.

_Smack!_

Kurt whimpered and tried to lower his exposed rear out of Blaine's reach. Impossible. 'Bedroom, Kurt. Crawl.' There was no love or affection shown tonight. All of those kinder traits had been used up hours earlier when Kurt had taken the life of the man with a piano. _A mercy killing, Kurt, he was going to die anyway. He was going to suffer-_ No excuse could console him. Blaine had extended a caring, considerate hand by letting him cry himself hoarse; using gentle nudges to bring him back home. Kurt had wanted nothing more than to be left to writhe in self-contempt and distress yet the moment the front door had closed Blaine let loose on him once he spotted fresh victim blood decorating Kurt's collarbone. Pleading to be left alone, Kurt had even tried running. He knew it would be a mistake worth regretting. Blaine enjoyed playing Cat and Mouse; for him it added to his excitement. He had chased Kurt down on the upstairs landing as the younger male had been running for the bathroom to lock himself inside. Things had moved so fast, he wasn't even fully aware of the shower's presence until he tasted the water on his tongue. Now, as he scrambled blindly on the hallway floor once more, he prayed that Blaine would punish him for being difficult and then let him be.

When Kurt's hands and knees carried him into the bedroom he and Blaine currently shared, the slightly older man was already there. 'Blaine, please-!'

Fingers looped in through his hair, yanking him upright and off his hands. He instinctively reached out and found his hands on Blaine. The grip on his head steered him closer. Knowing what was coming, and knowing it was futile to fight the inevitable, Kurt squeezed his eyes shut and let the cock push past his lips. The urge to gag was strong until Blaine sat back on the bed, aiming his hips upwards and unintentionally easing up on Kurt's throat. The boy took the opportunity to swallow. Blaine groaned and soon his second hand found the back of Kurt's neck. 'I don't want any more fucking tears tonight, Kurt.' His voice was thick and strained, like he was already holding back from hurting him even more than he already was. 'I want you to think about what you did. Pulling that trigger – God – I came right there just _watching_ you.' Eyes still tightly closed, Kurt tried to block out the sickening words but the sobs came anyway. Blaine heard him. He pulled Kurt's mouth off just long enough to deliver a sharp slap to his pale face. 'I told you, stop crying.' Before Kurt could insist through his weeping that he couldn't control it, his mouth was forced back to work. Head rolling back as the pleasure returned, Blaine let a smile loose on his lips. 'I saw it. I saw what you're on your way to becoming. I'm gonna keep making you do it. Live for the kill. Shit, just the thought-' Before he could finish, his hips made an involuntary jerk upwards. The thick fullness taking up Kurt's submissive mouth released a sliver of the man's sexual release. Like he had been trained to do, Kurt swallowed at once.

Biting his lip as he watched, Blaine's gaze clouded over with desire. His grip on him eased up and became more of a sensual massage, smoothing out Kurt's thick brown locks as quiet tears dripped down onto the carpet. 'Such a good boy,' Blaine murmured. 'You're learning. Tell me, Kurt, what do I want you to do now?' The answer was obvious and did not need to be spoken. Kurt choked back – _stop thinking about the eyes, Kurt!_ – and he stumbled to his feet. His knees buckled only once and Blaine was patient enough to not hit him for it. He clambered gracelessly onto the mattress and fell face first onto the duvet. Blaine hummed in approval, standing up and facing Kurt's ass. A lazy smack, followed by a teasing grope. 'Tell me what I want to hear, Kurt.'

Swallowing pride was not even an issue anymore: Kurt had none. 'Please fuck me. I-I want you,' He lied. _Please leave me alone. Give me a mercy killing like the man with the piano. Please...I'm dying here!_ The bed dipped: Blaine was leaning over him. His tongue ran up the length of Kurt's arched spine and a discreet hand snuck its way around to grasp Kurt's dick. 'A-ah!' The instinctive reaction to move away was thankfully overruled by pure fear of being punished. Blaine shamelessly palmed at his cock, smoothing down his finger and thumb to the tip and jerking it with his hot, wet hand. Used to his body betraying him, Kurt was not surprised when his traitorous appendage let itself be manhandled to attention. He took the tiniest amount of solace in the fact he wanted nothing more than to detach himself from his physical form. _Let him have my body, just please give me my mind. I need a hiding place._

'Tell me again why you keep fighting me,' Blaine went on, mounting Kurt with a hand on his neck to force him downwards. 'I'm always going to win. And sooner or later you're going to realise you need me. I've taken you too far for you _not_ to need me.' His shaft still lubricated by Kurt's own saliva, Blaine decided he did not need to prepare Kurt for his entrance. The boy screamed beneath him though Blaine continued as if he did not hear. 'I don't want to hurt you, Kurt, but you make it so easy to enjoy it. If you'd only just accept the reality-'

'_Blaine!'_ Kurt screamed, seeing red in his dizzy vision.

_Smack!_

The sting had transpired into real pain now. The force of it took away Kurt's breath. 'Don't interrupt.' came the firm reply. The long, torturous thrusts became heaving – like a boulder crashing down a hillside with a rapid increase in momentum. Blaine's hands stole Kurt's wrists and he crushed them deliberately as in warning when Kurt attempted to turn himself around. 'Open your legs wider, Kurt. Show me that you belong to me. Prove that you know that I own you.' Kurt's pained knees parted wider and then he screamed in agony when Blaine took another inch inside of him. 'You know you want my cock so work for it.' The next order followed like a well placed cue: 'Ride me.' Though it felt like a burning and tearing up of his insides, Kurt could only obey. With the little movements he could do, he rolled back and forth, up and down – finally grinding backwards until Blaine cursed loudly and began to mirror him. 'Ah, _fuck_... Kurt, that's it- Keep-keep going-'

'Blaine...' Kurt whimpered, unsure why he used up the tiny amount of energy he had to speak. What could he possibly say? All those nights during his mid adolescent years when he fantasised about making love to someone, it was gentle. It was slow. It was tender. But this wasn't making love; this was raw fucking at its most brutal. He had wanted someone he understood but the enigma which was Blaine only seemed to mock his delusional perception of sex.

Blaine's hips were thrusting erratically now and the room was beginning to spin and flash a multitude of colours, so Kurt knew the performance was coming to a climactic end. 'Kurt-Shit, Kurt, s-so good, so close,' Blaine panted. Droplets of water were falling onto the teen's bare back – or was that sweat? As if sensing the release of come, Kurt shook his head to try and ignore the sudden heat that shot into his ass. Blaine continued to jerk in and out of him, causing sickening wet sounds and spots of silver splashed down his kneeling legs. The man on top of him moaned loud and low, riding out his hit of ecstasy as long as he physically could.

Kurt knew the worst was over but his body was still pulsating pain and aches. He turned his head to the side and hoped Blaine would now let him lie down without mentioning the dripping of his own release which had happened at some point in the furious pounding. Thankfully, the ever energetic Blaine fell from him with his chest heaving in deep breaths. He looked thoroughly exhausted. He didn't even look at the boy he just fucked when he curled Kurt up into him and fell to sleep.

_I wish I was the innocent fool I used to be. Why did he have to change me?_

* * *

Finn's day was deteriorating. His nerves were already shot from the heated discussion with Louis that morning and his routine visit to Sebastian's cell – _slash_ – ward was worse than ever before. He couldn't help but blame his frustration with Sebastian on his ever-friendly guardian. After all, it was his vocal concerns which started it all.

'Finn, listen,' his uncle had began as Finn was slipping on his sneakers by the front door. 'Dr Peters called up last night after you'd gone to bed. He's concerned about you. And...so am I.'

Finn had waved away his worries away and checked his watch, making sure he was still leaving on time. 'I'm fine, Louis.'

The other man winced and touched his shoulder for Finn to look at him. 'You're coming home every day after seeing Sebastian and you're tired. Exhausted. In a bad mood that I can't shake you out of. Dr Peters says you've also been provided with medication for migraines when you visit his ward. If I thought there was some good coming from all of this then I'd butt out, but-'

'Some good _is_ coming from it,' Finn interrupted with vigour. He had to admit to himself that he felt oddly betrayed that Louis and Peters had been talking about him. Rounds with Sebastian in that room took a lot out of him, he knew that, but it was a sacrifice he was willing to make for the hope of getting a vital piece of information. 'The police do nothing, remember? If we're going to see Kurt again it'll be down to something Sebastian tells us.'

Louis seemed pained as he gathered up his tone of reason – something Finn really did not want to hear at that moment. 'But he's telling you nothing solid. It's all speculation and, in my opinion, another way he can play with you by teasing you with information he just doesn't have. You've gained nothing since you started talking to him,'

'So what do you expect me to do instead, huh?' Finn snapped though it shamed him to do so at the man who was his only pillar of strength. Louis had flinched at his sharpness though Finn continued, 'All leads have dried up. No one cares about Kurt enough anymore. I can't _do_ anything! If I wasn't at that freaking hospital every day chasing up the only potential source we have, I'd be on the floor crying. And I'm done with that.' He pulled himself up as he snatched his coat from the rack and pocketed his keys. 'I'm not going back to that life.'

'But he's just _playing_ with you-!' Louis was cut off as the apartment door was slammed in his face. Finn felt awful about storming off but, in all truthfulness, he couldn't control himself. Didn't Louis realise that his words had not only crossed Finn's mind before but also taunted him each time Sebastian let out that little chuckle of his? In order to survive, Finn needed to remain strong in his belief that Sebastian was a key. He had to believe that the smug asshole knew something and, either accidentally or deliberately, would reveal exactly what Finn required eventually. It upset him that Louis could not see that.

To make matters worse, that day Sebastian was as responsive as a brick wall. After clarifying the date – which he always did the moment Finn walked through the door – he went off on a tangent, complaining about a new male nurse who had taken to wearing a surgical mask after Sebastian had 'innocently' commented that his lips were made for sucking on cock. 'It was a compliment, and now he tiptoes around wearing that ugly thing and jumps every time I so much as cough.'

'I asked about Blaine,' Finn reminded him for the third time, his hands forming fists in impatience.

'Blaine? No, he never jumped when I coughed.' Sebastian grinned in humour. He was so much paler than Finn had seen him before, his face thinner and dark circles were forming around his eyes but yet he still looked like an animated hyena when he laughed at Finn's glare. 'Ugh, what is it about you today? You got a candy cane up your ass or something?'

Finn stood up from his chair and kicked the nearby cabinet. 'What is the _point_ in you?' He yelled. Sebastian was not in the least alarmed by the loud bang or the sudden sign of violence. He considered the teen with vaguely amused eyes. It drove Finn insane. 'Seriously, what is the point in me coming down here every day to listen to your bullshit? You think I like talking to you? Do you think I _like_ listening to you mess me around? I'm not a goddamn idiot; I know that's what you're doing!' Sebastian tilted his head, pouted and said nothing so that Finn could continue on his rant. 'You've got nothing. Nothing. You pretend you don't but I am _not_ going to come back just for your amusement.'

The cold silence which ensued was intensified by both men refusing to look away from the other. 'Finn,' Sebastian eventually sighed, 'Shut up.'

'Give me one good reason I shouldn't just walk out of this prison and forget all about you rotting away in here.' Finn shot back with firmness.

'Because I know that in the not-so-distant future, I'd give you the only piece of information you'll need to find Blaine.'

It was possible that Sebastian was lying, just as he could have lied about many things in the last month or so, but somehow Finn believed him. Still, the teenager would not settle for just that. 'What information?'

'I was with Blaine for years,' Sebastian mused, leaning his head back and letting his white face and pale lips become parallel to the ceiling. 'There really was no rhyme or reason to where we would go. Summers in Detroit, Washington, Athens. One Christmas we spent in Rome, the next in a quaint little village in Wales. But it was a certain guarantee that one day every year, Blaine would pack us up and we'd go to the same place as the year before. Just for one day. This unassuming, boring place. I would ask him why we had to go back – what was so special about it – but he never told me. I learned not to ask.' He paused, letting a frown set on his lips as he seemed to trip over a memory. 'But every year, when that date was approaching, I knew. It was like an anniversary that Blaine couldn't miss. It pissed me off because a few times we had to leave places that were so ripe for killing just so we had plenty of time to journey back. Trying to talk him out of it was useless. I know he'll take Kurt there this year... And I bet he even lets the fucker in on whatever his secret is, too.'

Sebastian had ended on a rather bitter note and Finn's eyebrows were raised. 'I think you're lying,' he said, though it was not a true statement.

'I don't give a flying fuck what you think,' Sebastian replied breezily.

Still, Finn pushed for more. 'Then give me the date, or the place. One of the two so I know you're being serious.'

Now Sebastian laughed and pulled his head forward to look straight at him again. 'Nice try, Hudson. I give you the date then you stop being the adorable little puppy dog biting at my heels for answers every day. You might even skip on visits. If I tell you the place, you'll camp out there lying in wait. I'll admit I'm fond of having your mug of a face walk through that door every day.'

The excitement which had filled Finn in the last two minutes verged on anger again. 'So you won't tell me until the day? How am I supposed to get to Kurt-'

'I'll give you a full day's notice,' Sebastian cut in, rolling his eyes. 'From where we are, that's plenty of time for you to get there before Blaine arrives the following evening. Why do you think I ask the date every time you come in?' He issued a wide grin. 'See? I can be a nice guy.' Finn still did not look so convinced and in aggravation the criminal let out a moan. 'It is no skin off my nose whether you come back or not. But one day I'll be ready to tell you, and you'd better hope you're there to hear it.'

An hour later, Finn arrived home. Louis met him at the door, anxious and eager to get back to good terms. Finn hugged the man and murmured how sorry he was for erupting the way he did that morning. He then told him that, as much as he appreciated and understood his concerns, he would be visiting Sebastian from here on out until Kurt was found. This time, Louis did not argue.

* * *

'It's so cold down here...' Kurt murmured, hugging himself as he followed after Blaine into the basement. Against his will, his feet hurried to stay close to the other man who was the only source of warmth he had.

'It has to be,' Blaine reached the bottom step of the stairway and turned towards him. He smiled at Kurt's shivering frame and pulled him close, running his arms up and down his back. The boy tensed up but did not pull away. 'I told to bring your coat, dumb-dumb,' Blaine jested. He slipped out a thick fleece sweatshirt and peeled Kurt's arms away from himself to wrestle the clothing on. 'I'd love to turn the dial up a few degrees but it needs to be this cold for your lessons. That's the reason we're here: this house was the only one with a powerful enough air conditioner in the basement,' He left him at the foot of the stairs and headed further into the large, spacious room. In the centre, underneath the dinky hanging light bulb, there was a long lab table. Along the side on a wheeled tray lay a spread of surgery equipment. Incision scalpels, tongs, scissors, clips, clamps – the mere sight of them would have had Kurt's heart on the floor in fearful anticipation but unfortunately they were not the main attraction. On the lab table, a lengthy bulk was hidden underneath a white sheet. Kurt did not need to guess what was under the sheet. Perhaps it would have been more accurate to ask _who _was under there. 'The homeless community around this area,' Blaine began, carefully folding the sheet back to reveal a slack-jawed, unshaven middle-aged man who's glazed-over eyes stared up brazenly to the light, 'makes for great test subjects.'

Kurt kept his expression rigid but he looked away to take a steadying breath. 'H-how long has he been...?'

Blaine glanced up. 'Dead? About a half a day. I picked him up while you slept last night.' He pulled the sheet down past the homeless man's naval and settled it at the hips, exposing a naked upper body. 'This one is forty eight. He's been out on the streets for about thirteen years, although I don't know how accurate that is. He was drugged out his mind when he told me.' Kurt was back to hugging himself and he slowly sat on the bottom step, hoping he would be permitted time before being forced to approach. Blaine smiled. 'Don't get me wrong; I had drugs at the ready, but he had already taken enough from his own supply.'

'You killed him on the streets?'Kurt asked. His voice was small and shallow, betraying that he was so close to fainting.

'Didn't need to,' Blaine slipped his hands in his pockets and strolled around the table. 'He hopped in the car the second I mentioned alcohol. A very important lesson, Kurt: mix truth with lies. You'll never find a more deceptive method. It's how I do things and it never lets me down. You're still soft-hearted so you'll take some solace in the fact he was so far gone he didn't feel any fear or pain.' With that, Blaine motioned for Kurt to come over. Kurt obeyed but hid behind Blaine as if the corpse would get up and go for him. Perhaps it was a reaction from guilt. _He died so you could have your first 'lesson'_. Blaine took his hand and led him closer. 'At forty-eight, he's older than I'd have liked. His years of drinking and smoking would have damaged a lot of his insides. I'd have preferred a younger, newer addition to the streets like a teenage runaway but he'll for getting you over your fear.'

'Why are you making me do this?' Kurt felt himself tearing up. 'Why do you want me to learn how to cut someone up – are you going to blackmail me into doing that as well to people who _aren't_ dead?'

Blaine frowned and tilted Kurt's chin up to face him. His hazel eyes hardened as he narrowed them on the teen. 'Kurt, don't give me that kind of talk. I wouldn't need to force you if you just accepted that this is the road you're on now.' His gaze softened and he held his cheek lovingly. 'And I want you to learn where everything is in the body. Major arteries, organs, the big, the small – I want you to know how to kill quickly and quietly. And after that,' A hint of a smile on his lips caused Kurt to quiver, 'I'd like to teach you how to put someone in torturous agony without it being fatal.'

Kurt had so many things he wanted to say – how insane and sadistic he was, to beg him to stop putting him through this hell, that he did not think he was physically capable of watching these lessons – but he was learning that no good would come from it. His mouth refused to open in defiance, anyway. Blaine was satisfied with his silence and he instructed him to pull up a seat. Kurt did so and, when he returned, found Blaine toying with a scalpel with a latex gloved-hand.

'Now, today is your first day, so I'm going to be the one to do this.' Blaine's voice was now like a serious teacher. He slipped on some overalls to protect his clothing and stepped behind the table to face his 'student'. 'Starting tomorrow, you'll be getting your hands dirty and by the end of the week I want to be able to leave you to explore on your own. You'll have a fresh cadaver every day, because the smell of one of these guys after a day or so is...' He pulled a face. Then, without warning and whilst Kurt stared at him in sickening wonder, he drew a quick, thin line up the dead man's front from his pelvis to his throat. Not expecting it to begin so fast, Kurt jerked back in his seat and stumbled onto the floor. Blaine frowned again. 'The sooner you get over this the better. It's like cutting into cake, Kurt, we're exploring the layers. Didn't you ever dissect anything in biology class?'

'No, but maybe that's what my biology class are doing right now.' Kurt was panting heavily; sweat pouring down his forehead despite the cold temperature of the room.

'I hope that isn't sarcasm, Kurt,' Blaine murmured, drawing back his weapon in warning. 'Because I'd hate to think that you weren't taking this seriously.' Kurt had enough sense to pull himself back up and mutter an apology. Somehow he managed to remain seated as Blaine carried out more incisions and gradually opened up the dead man's chest for their eyes to see. In the following hours, Kurt grew paler and paler as Blaine carefully dismantled everything his gloved fingers could get hold of. When the chest was essentially emptied of its contents, Blaine nodded for Kurt to come even closer to peer into the pink and red hole. The resistance Kurt had build up against feelings of sickness leading up to that moment faltered and he felt his legs grow wobbly. 'You can sit back down in a second, honey, but first I need you to look down here at the small of his back. Do you see that section? Well, if you were to stab someone right down th-'

'What made you this way?' Kurt's question shocked both him and Blaine, who looked up immediately. Realising there was no pretending he hadn't said it, Kurt knew had no choice but to continue. 'People studying medicine take years to grow accustomed to...to _this_. They normalise it because they want to help people. But you don't.' Blaine stopped leaning downwards and rose to meet Kurt's eye line. His face was expressionless, both a comforting yet dangerous sign. 'What happened to you in your life to make you capable the things you do?'

'Kurt, if this is some type of distraction method or backtalk then you know the punishment-' Blaine replied sternly.

Again, Kurt cut in. 'It's neither. Blaine,' He couldn't stop his tear drop falling onto the corpse's arm. 'I'm asking you because until you tell me I'll never understand. I won't understand you. And that might be fine with me but I get the impression you actually really want me to get you.' Blaine had no argument for that. The scalpel and tongs were set down and he rested his hands on the table. 'This isn't an attempt to trick you,' Kurt half-whispered. He was being truthful: he had tried tricking Blaine with his emotions before but it only got him to where he was today. 'I'm not playing a game.'

'No, you're not,' Blaine agreed lightly, sighing as he tilted his head and considered the slight boy across from him. He gave a vague smile. 'You don't play games, do you? But I do.' A pause. 'Sit down, Kurt.'

An order like that would have normally frightened Kurt with the prospect of dire consequences but in that moment he was just immensely relieved to step away from the lab table. He felt able to breathe again. Blaine circled the room slowly, peeling off his gloves and tossing them inside the open body. He then stalked in front of Kurt and knelt down. His hands ran up and down Kurt's legs, parting them slowly so he could shuffle in between them. 'You are lucky you are so beautiful,' he mused. 'And why is that?'

'Because no one else could say what I say to you and live another day,' Kurt repeated the saying which Blaine used quite regularly for him.

Blaine nodded and remained quiet as Kurt stewed in new worry. 'I love you. That's what makes the real difference. And because I love you, I'm willing to tell you about my life before meeting you. Before Sebastian. Before the first time one of my kills made headlines.' Kurt's eyes widened in surprise; he had not expected such a promise. But then Blaine's mouth dipped up in a smirk. 'But, like I said, I play games. I like playing with you. So I'll tell you my real story...but I will also tell you lies.'

'...What?' Kurt thought he hadn't heard right.

Blaine laughed. 'Lighten up, Kurt! It'll be fun. This is Monday. I'll tell you a possible story each day this week, and on Friday you can tell me which one you think is true.'

'And you'll tell me then?' Kurt leaned in unintentionally.

Blaine took the boy's bottom lip between his fingers and pinched it hard before catching it between his teeth. Kurt whined in pain as Blaine moved to then kiss him deeply. His tongue licked at Kurt's as a tease and he broke away with the teen's lips looking bruised. 'Where's the fun in that?' he murmured. 'Tell you what...if you guess right then I'll admit it. But if you choose one of the fakes, I'll say nothing as a punishment for you _not_ paying attention.' Kurt was left sitting half-stunned at the plan laid out in front of him. Blaine stood up and checked the time. 'No wonder I'm starving; it's after seven. Come on, let's go eat and I'll give you the first possible story.'

* * *

Now, don't interrupt me, Kurt. And listen close.

When I think about my upbringing as a kid, I understand now I had no chance of a good, normal life. When my older brother, Cooper, was still in diapers, my dad got himself thrown in prison for almost killing a cop. Five years later, he was only out on the streets long enough to fuck my mom and hold up a liquor store. When I was born nine months later I don't think anyone went to visit him in jail to tell him. It was normal to grow up without your dad around in our neighbourhood. Many other kids defied the odds and got out of the slums through a mixture of hard work, studying and pure, raw luck. However, by the time I was born my mom was already promising me to the local gangs in exchange for drug fixes.

Murder was commonplace. I seen more senseless violence before I could walk than many cops do throughout their whole careers. Guys would come in to our crummy studio apartment all the time looking for our mom, and if she wasn't around my brother and I were knocked around out of boredom as they waited for her. Don't look so horrified, Kurt: that was just the way of life in our area. We stole from general stores and shopping malls when we were hungry or needing new clothes. What else could we do? It wasn't like our mom was providing for us. Cooper was more of a parent to me than she was. I'd be long dead if it wasn't for him. He made me go to school even though he himself never went. He sat with me on the kerb and helped me with homework. He put me to bed most nights too when our mom was passed out on the couch. He told me I was going to be a psychologist, I was so smart. We both knew they were pipe dreams, though.

You've never known the harsh reality of inner city life, Kurt, and for that I'm thankful. I wouldn't have wanted you exposed to it the way I was. My neighbourhood was falling apart around me and no one was stepping up to the plate. No one, until Cooper and I. We started off small; rounding up a few of our friends and chasing outsiders from our territory. We got into a few fights but somehow always ended up on top. I was only fifteen when I took out my first gang leader. I didn't wash his blood out of my hair for days. The rival gang swore revenge but we grew bigger and stronger, and they never followed through on their threats. Once we had reached the top, things got even easier.

In our own pathetic way we began living the high life: store owners would give us free reign on their premises so that we wouldn't trash their place. Cops turned a blind eye to what we were doing. Each night we would take a new patch as our own and anyone who had a problem with that didn't last long. They used to call me the silent psycho. I took offence to the title, of course: I thought it was hypocritical to criticise me for being good at dishing out the violence. After a while, though, I realised they were just scared. They were also unable to articulate why they were scared but fortunately I knew why. You see, many of the gang members liked the idea of flexing their muscles all over the city, roughing up people along the way. Others joined in order to have a form of community protection and security, not because they wanted to get into fights. I firmly believe Cooper fit into that category. I guess that was the one major difference between my brother and me: when it came to life on the streets, Cooper survived...I thrived. I had this innate, natural passion for putting people through hell. Some might claim it was due to my depraved background but I know that's bullshit: at the most my neighbourhood gave me the chance to explore these desires I was born with.

But soon the guys grew too uncomfortable with my fighting tactics. They couldn't stomach it, called it sadistic torture, and made a pitiful effort to reel me in. But they failed to see that threatening to drop me from the group accomplished nothing. I didn't need them; in fact, I realised I was limiting myself the longer I stayed. My brother begged me not to leave but I knew my hometown had dried up. I didn't tell him what my plans were – how could I explain that I wanted to flex my violence muscles without sounding insane? – and I skipped down for good.

Working on my own at last was euphoric. At first, I focused on my usual targets: scum of the street. Criminals, abusers and drunks. Yet, after a little while of finding my feet I began wondering why I was being so biased. The rich and the affluent were just as deserving...maybe even more so. I invented the games to keep myself amused. My brother had said I could have been a psychiatrist due to my interest in how people's minds worked. I tested his theory and found he was right: I pushed people to the brink of their pain threshold and sanity, and then watched as they fell apart piece by piece. It was intriguing. I experimented to find out more. By the time I found Sebastian, I was an entirely different person – someone my own brother would not recognise. And it was a person I was proud of being. And I know you really struggle with this concept, Kurt, but I was finally happy. Life only reached true perfection the moment I met you and _that_ is the honest-to-god truth.

* * *

_The Following Day_

'Come on, Kurt, I already made the first incision.' Blaine murmured behind him as Kurt's shaking hand hovered over the naked man who was laid out on the lab table. The stranger was younger than the person the day before and his body was riddled with thousands upon thousands of freckles. He reminded Kurt of one of Finn's friends a little too much for his own good. 'Baby-'

'I _can't_.' Kurt shivered. His breath came out like a cloud as he spoke. The basement was even colder than it had been on Monday but he knew his shivering was only partly due to the temperature. 'H-he's...staring at me.'

He could tell Blaine had been getting impatient with him but as he whispered out that last part he could feel the man behind him ease up. Blaine's footsteps could be heard moving around behind him and a few moments later he appeared at Kurt's side with a white sheet in his hands. He covered the stranger's face – which was void of all emotion – with the sheet and then placed a warm hand on Kurt's shoulder. 'There, is that better?'

Kurt had no choice but to nod. It was a lot better. Those eyes had been staring at him since he had entered the basement and although the man had been dead hours Kurt still felt his accusing stare was directed only at him. The problem now was that his hand holding the scalpel was still not lowering onto the freckled skin and Blaine would not be as considerate a second time. 'Blaine...I'm trying. I'm really trying, I'm sorry-!'

The panic in Kurt's voice was embarrassing but Blaine hushed him gently and enveloped him from behind. 'Shh, it's alright baby, don't worry. I'll help. Just hold the knife tight in your fingers.' His hand ran down Kurt's arm until it reached his wrist. He then slowly forced their hands down. Kurt began to shake and push back against him as if to stall the cut but Blaine was firm. 'Keep your eyes open. Watch what's happening. There...that's it...' An easy slice was made. 'Good...all the way down. A little deeper. Perfect.' Kurt's eyes wanted to look away but it seemed like the cold air had frozen them in place and he had no choice but to watch. However, they did water. He sniffed. 'Don't cry, baby: it's over. You did it.' Blaine's soft voice was so proud that it was almost comforting. He let Kurt put the scalpel down. 'Think you can do the rest yourself?'

_By 'the rest', you mean dig into this man's insides? _ Kurt nodded. 'I think so.' He lied.

Blaine kissed his temple and then moved away to watch from the side. 'Would you like me to tell you today's story as a distraction?' The teen nodded, fingers quaking over the incision. 'Okay: you work, I'll talk.'

* * *

I know after the story I told you yesterday that you might think I had needed to have a pretty messed up, under-privileged life in order to do what I do, but, in reality...I had an awesome childhood.

I do really have a brother called Cooper, but the age difference between us meant that by the time I was just finishing elementary school, he moved had out to college. After that, I had all the benefits of being an only child. My dad owned a multi-million dollar software company and my mom was the head violinist in the city orchestra. Money was never an issue. I attended the most distinguished all-boys academy in the state, spending my free time hanging out at the yacht club with my friends. My grades were perfect, I was well-liked and there wasn't a single cloud in my sky.

For my sixteenth birthday, my dad organised an all-day party at our house. After playing sports, racing our horses and messing around in the pool, I was brought out front and given keys to a brand new convertible. I thought I was the luckiest guy on the planet. I got in the driver's seat, buckled up, and called for my best friend, Sam, to ride with me around our estate. But it was not Sam who got in the passenger seat. It was a girl named Veronica Cartwright. I knew her by sight from the yacht club and she attended my academy's sister school. Her father was a pretty big deal in the oil industry and he and my father had played golf together every Saturday in the months prior. My dad poked his head in and told me to be a gentleman and take Veronica for a spin instead. The girl had been trailing after me all day whilst shimmying her bikini down further and further the longer I ignored her. To have Veronica as my first passenger bugged the hell out of me. I wanted to put a towel down on her seat to stop her bare legs slipping all over the precious leather. Still, as much of a spoilt kid as I was, I resisted and grudgingly agreed to drive her to the gate and back. She tried to flirt with me as we sped off so I turned on the radio to drown her out. When I finally got her out of my car, my mother began to gush over how cute we looked together. I knew then that something was very wrong.

Veronica was then invited over to our house practically every weekend that followed under the ruse that she would be baking with my mother. I wasn't fooled: my mother had never touched a rolling pin or whisk in her life. The girl followed me everywhere and soon I couldn't go out without bringing her with me. Don't get me wrong; by girl standards she was by no means ugly. Her parents had spent far too much money on her plastic surgery for her to be 'ugly'. But she made me sick. As I dropped her home one night, she climbed onto me, vying for a goodnight fuck or something, and I threw her off. She hurt herself and, of course, by the time I got back to my own house my parents were already waiting. They yelled and I yelled, and then screamed some more. They demanded to know what was wrong with me playing hard to get with a girl like Veronica. I corrected them: I was not playing hard to get. I wasn't playing at all.

'_She's a gorgeous girl and from now on you will speak of her as your girlfriend.' _

I know I swear pretty regularly now, Kurt, but up until that night I had never uttered a curse word in my life. And I had also never talked back to my parents. So they were not the only ones who were surprised to hear me spit out the words 'Fuck you!' in retaliation. I had never been so angry.

As you'd expect, I was punished but my parents were not the physical sort so they resorted to taking things away. At first, it was my car. It ticked me off but I was pretty energetic and could walk or take my bike to wherever I needed to go. They then cut off my access to their money. Again, it caused problems but I wasn't as reliant on money as they thought I was. However, I could not comprehend their cruelty when I was banned from seeing my friends like Sam...particularly Sam. It was during summer vacation and I had many more long weeks ahead of me. I couldn't fathom how I would make it until school started up again. That _girl_ came over almost every day. Nowhere in my house was off-limits to her. At last, I got her alone in the greenhouse after spending hours trying to escape her company, and let rip on how I felt. _Don't you want to be with someone who likes you? Aren't you tired of me constantly shoving you away? Everyone deserves love and, I'm sorry, but you and I are never going to happen._

I tried talking to her, Kurt, I really did. Perhaps if she had listened we might have been able to turn the tables on our parents and put this hellish situation to rest. But reasoning with her was like speaking to a brick wall: she couldn't have cared less about how I felt towards her; she just wanted me as her boyfriend. She wanted my family name, she wanted to start a dirty-rich, beautiful family life with me and she could not comprehend why I wasn't on board yet. I don't know if she had always been that dumb or if she had been corrupted by messed up fantasies, but it depressed me nevertheless.

Somehow, I survived most of the summer. The weekend before my first day back at school, my parents held their annual end-of-vacation brunch. It was no surprise that this year none of my real friends were invited. My home was infested with high-brow families and an unholy number of Veronica's friends. The only promising company I had was Cooper, who had chosen to come back for some unknown reason. I let him distract me with his animated tales of Hollywood and helped myself to all the alcohol within reach. Time came round fast and, before I knew it, it was time for my father's toast to the party-goers. He thanked the guests, the caterers, the entertainment, his eldest son for going to great efforts to be there, his stunning wife, and – lastly – his beautiful future daughter-in-law, who had accepted his love-struck son's proposal. At that, Veronica stood up and raised her hand. A giant diamond graced her ugly, bony finger. At once, everyone cheered and clinked their glasses.

I had been sitting off in the corner working on getting drunk but I sobered up fast. At first, I thought I had misheard. Then I thought it was a joke. When I deemed it too cruel to be a joke, I even wondered if Cooper had fallen for Veronica earlier that day and that _he_ was in fact the love-struck son. However, the girl waltzed over to me in my chair and placed a sloppy kiss on my cheek. I sat, dumbstruck, for over an hour. People congratulated me without needing a response. At some point, as everyone was leaving to go home, I realised that I was not dreaming this horrible nightmare; I was living it. I told myself I had only one option.

I asked for my 'bride-to-be' to stay the night. My parents were all too quick to agree. I then pressured Cooper to leave. He was a good guy; I didn't want him caught up in my plans. He went off to sleep over with some ex-girlfriend and that was the last I ever saw of him. He didn't know that my waving him off really was goodbye. That night, as my parents slept, I crept into Veronica's room. She was so excited to wake up and see me, saying something about how our married life would be. She asked if I wanted her in her bed. I told her I wanted her on the kitchen counter. Half-truths, Kurt, remember? It's the best form of deception. People believe they know what's going on but in reality the lie is right in front of them. Thinking I was talking sex, she followed me downstairs. I closed every door along the way – I couldn't have my parents hearing us. I took her to the kitchen and dimmed the lights. I picked her up and placed her on the counter, telling her to lie down. She did. I could tell she thought this was going in a very different direction but I held back the feelings of nausea and let her believe. You wonder why it is so easy for me to stab people, Kurt? It is because the first time I ever did it, I was ridding myself of that deluded and repulsive girl who was forcing herself on my entire life. She didn't see the knife coming until it was all the way inside her chest. I held a dishtowel against her mouth to stop her screaming but she still managed to scratch me so bad I had claw marks for months. I will admit it: I overdid that killing. I don't think I could be blamed, though: it was my first, and one of the few murders I've ever committed that was driven by pure hate. I tore her to pieces until I was exhausted. When it was over I fell onto the floor and lay there for hours. I think I might have fallen asleep but the memory of my parents upstairs woke me up fast.

I know it might sound insane now, but back then, Kurt, I didn't have much faith in my strength. I was still a kid in his teenage years and had never been in a single fight. The thought of going up against my parents – two people – scared me. But they had to die. What excuse could they give for trying to ruin their son's life? I chose a more cowardly approach. My father was a car fanatic and had about a dozen beauties in our garage, along with a truckload of gasoline. After filling up my own car with a small selection of my belongings, I filled buckets with gas and took them inside. As my parents slept, I silently flooded their bedroom. I worked fast. I was thorough. I hooked their windows shut from the highest point. I then brought in the final two buckets. I poured the first over my father. Both my parents woke up and instantly began shouting in alarm but by then I had emptied the second all over mother. I ran out the room. They both looked at me from their bed, blinking and spiting furiously as the liquid seeped in, still without a clue as to what I was doing. Part of me wished I had spent more time waiting for them to realise but my heart was racing so fast and I wasn't thinking straight. I just lit the match and tossed it in.

I had tried to lock their door from the hallway side but the fire had exploded too fiercely that I had to run down the corridor before the flames got me. I heard them screaming. They screamed so loud that I feared they would wake up our closest neighbours who lived miles away. I didn't look back, not even for a second: I just shot outside and into my car, sped out of our estate and drove until I was forced to stop for – you guessed it – gas. They burned alive and, according to the front page article I read a couple of days later, they hadn't managed to even get out of bed. The whole house was gone overnight. I had put Cooper's things in boxes out by the gate and I hoped he would get them instead of police taking them as evidence. I didn't read any more newspapers after that day. I didn't want to read that Cooper hated me for killing our parents. I wanted to live on under the illusion that he somehow realised why I needed to do what I did.

I took out most of my parent's money in the few days before their card stopped working at ATMs and with bank tellers. I told myself I could live in exile quite happily but I soon found the reverse to be true. I had acquired a taste for killing, since my first three victims had died in such satisfying ways. I started off small, targeting stores and idiots in alleyways with a gun I stole. However, one guy beat the shit out of me when I tried to approach and I realised I needed to get stronger. I trained in gyms with boxing trainers who got me up to the level I'm at now. They were so impressed but had no idea I was doubling up on lessons by practising on people in the street at night.

A couple of years later, I was recognised. An old schoolmate seen me in a bar. He was dressed in his college sweatshirt and the idiot took longer than he should have to remember my family's story. I got him in the restrooms before he could say anything. I left immediately after feeling more miserable than ever. Don't get me wrong, Kurt: I wasn't sad about killing him. Instead, I had realised that all of my friends – including Sam – had moved on. They had gone off to college, moved around the world and one had even got married - and where was I? Crouching behind trash cans at the weekends hoping some poor sap would stumble home drunk and be my next victim. I needed something more to live on. That was when I decided on the games. I'd leave behind something more substantial, more memorable than anything my classmates ever could. And only I had to know it. I know it doesn't make sense to you but one day it will. Sebastian understood.

The games aren't meaningless – they give _purpose_.

It's what I was born to do.

* * *

It was Wednesday afternoon and the glorious sunshine seemed never-ending. Or, at least it would have if Kurt had known the day had turned out so well. His day had been spent in the basement, yet again. Blaine had brought him down around eleven and given him a list of tasks to complete that day. Kurt had not argued nor had he voiced his fear – _I can't do this!_ – because he knew it would make no difference.

_Do what you did yesterday, Kurt. It's not real. Keep repeating those words: it's _not _real._

The day before had been beyond traumatic. After telling his story, Blaine had grown impatient with Kurt's pathetic attempts at exploring the young man's insides and decided to force his hands into the open gut and holding them in place until Kurt stopped fighting against him. The teen had then been told if he didn't take these 'lessons' seriously, he would be punished in a similar way again. Kurt had to find a way to satisfy Blaine and unfortunately the solution was to resort back to numbness. Telling himself over and over that the dead person in front of him was nothing more than a dummy, he managed to get through the remainder of the day. The following morning, Blaine had introduced him to the new body: it was a woman. _Not real, not real, not real-_ This time Kurt let his mind become blank as he covered her face with the sheet and let Blaine's light steering guide his hand as he cut her open. _Not a real person, this is all fake, you aren't hurting anyone-_

Blaine said very little after that. He had left Kurt alone with a music-only radio. His only instruction for that day was for Kurt to place different organs he found into plastic containers which Blaine laid out for him. It was all very formal. It was also for the best: the less Blaine spoke to him, the less aware Kurt had to be. Every so often Blaine returned with drinks or food but Kurt was thankful when he left.

That was until around four PM. Arms aching and his head feeling like a ball that was being kicked around, Kurt needed to stop. He hated to admit it, too, but staring down at the woman for so long had indeed made him immune to the horror. Perhaps his self-mind trick worked?

'How's it going?' Blaine called from the top of the basement stairway on his next visit.

Kurt took a step back and turned to look at him. 'I'm tired.' He said simply.

The man sauntered down to him and examined his handiwork. 'Good. Very good, actually.' He grinned, grabbing the teens head and squeezing it against his lips fondly. 'You have a knack for this. Ever considered a career as a surgeon?'

Kurt held his tongue.

'Alright, I think you can finish up. Everything you took out of her, I want you to put back in.' Kurt stared at him, aghast. Blaine laughed. 'This is _training_. And I don't have any use for organs in containers.' Kurt wanted to argue. He wanted to scream at him for making him literally take this woman apart only to reverse it at the end. _Why does that matter?_ Biting the inside of his lip and praying Blaine did not notice his new distress, Kurt turned away and got to work. 'In the meantime, I'll tell you today's story. Maybe this one is the truth?' Blaine wriggled his eyebrows and sat down on the bottom stair. Kurt gave a sound of agreement, and then Blaine began.

* * *

'Blaine – come on, faster!' Cooper bellow through laughter as he leapt through the forest groves like an elegant stag pouncing from one foot to the next.

A considerable distance behind him, Blaine gripped his backpack straps firmly and his smaller feet pounded on the autumn floor. In the seven year old's wake he left a flurry of dust, crisp leaves and an air of heated perspiration. An excited smile was stretched across his face under his mop of black curls. 'Coop!' He called through his own giggles, 'Wait! Mom said you need to go slow with me!'

His brother didn't seem to hear him and very soon the older boy was so far ahead he disappeared beyond the numerous sloping hills. It didn't really matter to Blaine, though: he knew the way to their 'secret' treehouse. From their holiday cottage you follow the man-made path until you come across the little stream. After following the flow of water to the large oak, you hang a left and go straight. His father had chosen a giant chestnut tree that was hard to miss for his sons' playhouse. The roots were as thick as tyres and extended in winding patterns all around. The very thought of seeing the wondrous tree was almost too much for the boy. He laughed after slipping down a small dip and rapidly brushed his dirty hands over his jeans. His mother would have told him off but she knew to expect her sons' home in a sorry state when they were out in the wooded countryside, as she always had done in the many years the family had been vacationing in their quaint and cosy cottage.

'Coop-!' Blaine shouted again. Still no response. Perhaps his brother had already made it to their 'fort'? Surely Blaine hadn't run past it? It would be the first time ever that he had missed- 'Ah-_ah!_' A hidden root had caught around his ankle as he had tried to race down a leafy bank. His hands flew out to cushion his fall but it was a wasted effort: he had tumbled head-first almost skimming down parallel to the ground. By the time his palms could reach out, his forehead collided with something hard. Somewhere between his ears he heard a loud and blunt thud which was followed by a severe, blinding pain. His head felt like it was going to explode from it all. However, as he landed in a heap, all he could utter was a small '_Hmmph'_.

The forest grew very still and quiet. The small seven year old's frame – tucked up in a pair of light-up sneakers and an over-sized _Batman_ themed jacket – stood out like a sore thumb amongst the glow of honey brown, yellows and reds. Blaine looked out along the ground. The world appeared very different from this view. Trees grew sideways instead of upwards. The sky went on forever out to the left, and a firm wall of dirt took up much of the right. A cool wind picked up and Blaine could feel a particularly cold wetness just above his brow – a gash about four inches long and in need of stitches. All excitement for his treehouse had gone. But, even though he was alone and hurt, he felt no fear either. Only interest. Was he going to be found? If no one spotted him, what would happen? He knew enough to realise that dying was certainly a possibility. He wasn't sure how he felt about that.

'Blaine?'

That was Cooper's voice. It sounded so far away; Blaine was quick to forget about it. About ten inches from his face sat a mossy boulder. He hadn't noticed it until a lone ant came up from the undergrowth and wandered its way up the rock. Blaine could count four different sections of the ant's body, the largest part being the plump rear segment. He had never seen an ant up close before – perhaps it something to do with his aversion to bugs which seemed to have been knocked out of him upon impact – and for many seconds he took it in. The thin legs moved like the fine-working cogs of a clock through the moss. But the serene display of nature was suddenly shattered.

A black blob – no, a hairy monster of a creature – rose up from the blanket of leaves moving swiftly and smoothly into the ant's path. The ant had no time to act; the spider was too fast. Blaine watched in fascination. A small tussle was rapidly over when one of the spider's many legs pierced right into the ant's mid-section. At once, the ant's own legs reached up in silent agony before trying to turn itself away (whilst still penetrated) to escape. The spider slowly pulled it's leg out from the broken frame. The ant took several tiny steps, all the while it's attacker circled it in a lazy manner. Was it playing with its food? The ant veered off one way, then another, but each time it was met with those many black eyes which forced it back.

'Blaine – where'd you go?'

The young boy paid no attention to the voice, his eyes now wide with avid interest with the scene unfolding in front of him. The spider seemed to kick the ant over onto its back before climbing on top. Tiny little limbs thrashed upwards but did no harm. The black, treacherous knife of a leg raised up, dancing in the air bringing a rise in anticipation. The ant struggled with new-found vigour – but it was over. The spider thrust own on the ant's thickest, plumpest section as its fangs crushed over the head. Though Blaine could not hear anything, he imagined a popping sound as the head broke away and a squish as guts oozed out onto the rock. Something deep inside his young mind clicked into place.

'Blaine? Oh my god, _Blaine_!'

The pounding of running footsteps couldn't tear his attention away from the boulder but his view was suddenly blocked as a grip on his arm turned him onto his back. He blinked up at his brother's white face and wide, fearful eyes. 'Blaine, what happened? Oh geez, you're bleeding really bad. I gotta get dad.' But the notion to seek adult help troubled the older boy as he did not want to leave the child alone. He appeared to have an inner debate with himself but Blaine could not care. Even as he was picked up, Blaine's mind was elsewhere. On the trek back to the cottage, Blaine wondered how long before the spider would need another ant to satisfy its hunger.

* * *

_Nine Years Later_

'I'm sorry, but Blaine's actions cannot be tolerated. When his teachers told him they would not supply him with dissection pieces they did _not_ mean for him to bring in his own.' Mr Craig, the head of the school biology department, fumed under his laughable toupee. His nostrils flared and his clasped hands were tight enough to cause his knuckles to glow white.

Blaine's mother shifted uncomfortably, avoiding looking over at her son next to her and instead focused on the man on the other side of the desk. 'I would have thought you of all people would want to nurture a genuine interest in your subject,' She began though her words were not supported by her uneasy tone. 'It's unorthodox, I admit, but even if he is a bit young-'

'Ma'am, unorthodox is putting it _very_ lightly.' Mr Craig frowned at Blaine. The teenager looked positively bored, his half-lidded eyes gazing at the mug on the desk filled with stationary. His fingers strolled over the pencils, pens and rulers, pushing them around with flicks of his fingers. 'Dead frogs are one thing, but where do you think he found a dead rabbit? What in the world possessed him when he decided to bring it all bloodied and torn to pieces into a classroom of other fifteen year olds? I had to cancel the lesson. Girls were crying and now I need to deal with angry parents.'

'He won't do it again,' Blaine's mother could sense where this was going and was trying to prevent it at all costs. 'His father will have a strong word about this tonight and he'll understand why what he did was unacceptable, alright?'

Mr Craig shook his head. 'I'd hope that would be the case anyway but I'm afraid the principal has already decided on suspension.'

'_Suspension?_' The woman gasped as though she hadn't already expected it. 'Why? Oh, this is very over-dramatic – he didn't mean to upset anyone. All he did was bring in a rabbit he found because he wanted to learn about biology and you want to _suspend_ him?'

'For a minimum of two weeks, yes.' Mr Craig gave a firm nod of his head and pushed himself back from his desk as an outward sign that this conversation was finished. 'I'm sorry you're upset, and I assure you that when Blaine returns to class it will all be forgotten. I've taken the liberty of compiling a study program in this-' he slid across a folder, 'so he doesn't fall behind. He's a smart boy; he can be his own teacher for a couple of weeks.'

Furious and spiting words of venom, Blaine's mother snatched the folder up and stormed out the room. Mr Craig met Blaine's gaze for a moment before turning towards his computer screen. The teen sighed and hitched his school bag up over his shoulder. But before he left, Blaine discreetly plucked out the sharpest pencil from the mug and followed after his mother.

The drive home was quiet. The radio was not turned on – a true sign that things were not right. As he stared out at passing cars, Blaine took note of his mother's sharp breathing. She was still mad but sadness was also seeping into her emotional state. As he expected, she said nothing until they were on the lonely, private road leading up to their home. She wouldn't dare say anything for fear that nearby drivers could somehow overhear her words. However, as the streetlights disappeared and were replaced by the car's full beam headlights, she finally broke her silence. 'Blaine. What on _earth_ were you thinking?'

'Like you said, I was interested in biology.' Blaine replied easily.

His mother shook her head, eyes never leaving the road. 'Then study books, take weekend classes and volunteer in the local vet but _don't_ take a mangled rabbit into your school! For goodness sake, I almost fainted when he brought it out to show me.'

'To be honest, mom, most living things look similar when you cut them open.'

If she was a mother who hit, the woman driving would have lashed out at her son for that remark. 'Blaine, I have had enough of you for tonight! At least tell me you understand _why_ what you did was out of line!'

'Fine. I understand why what I did was out of line,' With a vague smile, the teen repeated her words. There was no sarcasm or disrespect in his voice but still it was clear he was not taking it seriously.

His mother continued to quietly seethe. She was not accustomed to giving her son into trouble – and Blaine had always been a special, well behaved boy since early childhood – so she did not know where to go from there. His father was the better discipliner, she knew, but there was one more question she had to ask before she passed off the responsibility to her husband. 'Blaine… Your grandmother's cat. The one that died.' At once, the atmosphere grew heavy. Blaine's smile faded. 'I want you to answer honestly. Yes or no, understand?' She took his silence as understanding. 'Did you…God, I can't believe I'm asking this… Did you have something to do with what happened to Cottonball?'

The mental image of the beaten feline tied to a tree branch caused her to shudder. Blaine did not answer straight away. She feared the '_yes_' that was surely on its way. 'Mom…' The voice which responded was thick with anguish. She eased up on the gas pedal and glanced over to her son. The ever-composed Blaine now looked distressed. He turned watery eyes towards her, his mouth forming words unspoken. 'M-mom, pull over. I have something…I need to tell you.'

She did not need to be told twice. She slowed the car to a stop, her heart racing but now it was out of concern for her baby's upset. She must have misunderstood the situation and now she had caused Blaine to be close to tears. 'Honey-' She pulled up the break and took out the car keys from the ignition. But before she could turn herself towards her youngest child, a swift arm swung at her. In her surprise, she expected to be hit in the face, but instead…

Blood spluttered out and hit the windshield and dashboard. Blaine slowly brought his face round to his stunned mother who was blindly clawing at her neck. Mr Craig's sharp pencil stayed lodged right in the center of her throat. Finally comprehending what had happened – and that it was no accident – the woman's eyes grew wide with terror. She gurgled pitifully and her arms struck out in every direction. 'I'll come clean, mom,' Blaine began softly, settling back in his seat to stare out into the red-misted darkness of the evening. 'I took dad's shovel to that cat. Not enough to kill it, though. It died on the tree. I used a string of bark to secure it there and let it go naturally.' He let out a breath, leaned back his head and smiled. 'Wow, I'm so glad to get that off my chest.

His mother couldn't form words: blood was seeping from the corner of her mouth. Her hand finally found the driver's door handle and it took three attempts before she was able to swing it open. Blaine glanced at her as she strove to throw herself out the car – but her safety belt kept her trapped to her seat. He slipped his hand down, unbuckled her belt and watched in mild interest as she tumbled out onto the roadside. He sighed and unbuckled himself. 'Mom, come back…'

The middle aged woman, who only minutes earlier had still been under the illusion her baby boy was still as close to perfection as any child could be, gave a strained whine of agony as she tried to dislodge the pencil in her throat. Unable to do it, and unable to even consider if that was maybe for the best, she resorted to spitting out the red liquid filling her mouth. She struggled to get to her feet. She was a runner who had won marathons in her youth; she could have been forgiven for thinking she could make use of her athletic skills now. However, her knees gave way before she had even put weight on them. Her legs were shaking uncontrollably. She resorted to crawling towards the trees.

'Mom, where are you going?'

Her son's angelic voice sung after her. She squealed and scrambled faster, unaware of the adolescent slowly walking right at her heels. When her fingers started to touch on stray blades of grass a few feet from the trees, she was fooled into believing she could make it. But Blaine reached down around her and gripped onto the pencil, yanking it round towards him. His mother could do nothing but flip helplessly onto her back and the pain became beyond unbearable. She gave something very close to a scream. Blaine straddled her chest lazily; tucking her arms tight against her sides, and gave a reassuring smile. 'Don't worry, mom, I'll get it out. Just stay still. I'll do it fast like a band aid.'

His mother had no time to react to his words; he gripped the pencil again and swiftly jerked it up out of her. Her upper body, though partially restrained, convulsed in response as blood spurted up into the air like a volcano blowing its top. The teen's eyes widened and he laughed in excitement. The woman's tears blinded her to most of the horror but she knew that this was all about to end. She could sense it. 'Bl-aine...' She wept before coughing hard. Blood was harder to push out of her mouth so it had no other option but to seep down her windpipe.

Blaine had been temporarily distracted by how inky black the hole in her throat was but at hearing her attempt to speak he issued an expression of sympathy. 'Shh, mom, don't try to speak. Just lie back.' He smoothed her hair away from her face. 'That's it. I know it hurts. But don't worry, it'll all be over soon and I'll put you off the road so you don't get hit by any police car.' He didn't react at all when she whipped her head from side to side and her skin became a sickening shade of blue. His fingers played with her hair gently. 'I didn't want to do this to you, you know. You gave me life and I'll never be able to repay you for that. But...you were supposed to make me love you, mom,' he stared into her red eyes, 'and you didn't. I don't. Maybe if I did then I wouldn't be able to do this to you. Just something to think about, you know...in these final moments.' He spoke so softly that the light breeze which tickled his skin could almost drown him out. With a final sigh, he placed his palm over her mouth, forcing it shut. Scarlet water poured from the hole down the woman's neck but he knew it was nothing compared to the blood trapped and clogging inside of her. She struggled against him weakly for a mere minute but even after her gaze had become glassy and her body limp, Blaine kept one hand on her mouth and the other running over her hair. He sat there on her chest for some time. Thinking. Examining. When he finally carried her body off the road and returned to the car, it was getting late. As he had expected, his mother's cell phone had several missed calls from his father.

One down, two to go.

* * *

'Two to go?' Kurt questioned, his voice quiet. He too was now sitting on the basement floor, his bloody overalls at the other side of the room as he huddled in a blanket Blaine had supplied him with. He had been listening intently to the story, his expression cloudy.

Across the room, still stretched out on the bottom stair, Blaine grinned. 'My dad and Cooper. My brother was the first. It would have been easier the other way round, but I had to get it right.'

'Get what right?' Kurt asked, pulling the blanket around his frame tighter to keep out the cold air.

'My long-term plan.' Blaine clarified, 'I had known for weeks that my normal life wasn't going to last much longer, so I took my father's analytical advice and considered all possible outcomes. It wasn't just my family who had to go. I needed the old Blaine to die as well. But how do you die without leaving a body?' Kurt's wide eyes did not have an answer. Blaine chuckled and shrugged. 'I guess it isn't that obvious. Let's just say that the police found exactly what I wanted them to find. My mother lying in the kitchen. My father sitting at his desk in the study, a bullet hole in his head, a fallen handgun on the floor and a suicide note written by his own hand tucked under a paperweight. Both his sons' blood smeared all over the house but their bodies nowhere to be found.'

It took a few moments for Kurt to consider the situation that was being described. 'You...framed your father?' Blaine smiled. 'What about your blood in the house, and your brother?'

'Cooper's body was found a couple of years ago down a well. The official police report says the whereabouts of my remains are still unknown. I had sliced my hand open pretty bad, leaving blood stains from my bedroom all the way out to my father's car. The letter I left behind written in my father's hand for them to find was pretty convincing – no one ever questioned it. I hitched rides to Canada and stayed there until the whole thing blew over.' Blaine gave an accomplished smile. 'And all of that is the truth.'

Kurt said nothing. For a while, he just sat on the floor with a thoughtful expression gracing his face. Then, he stood up. Blaine watched. The teen quietly dropped the blanket and shyly crossed the room until he was in front of his captor. He got to his knees. Blaine's eyes widened but the man had managed to school his expression to hide some of his surprise. Kurt bit his lip nervously before slowly taking gentle hold of Blaine's wrists. The older male's gaze was filled with careful interest and excitement. Kurt lifted Blaine's hands, tucking his face between his palms. Blaine immediately cupped his cheeks and leaned in closer. Closing his eyes, Kurt focused on the touch. He rubbed his face into the warm skin. After a few moments, he reached out again and ran his fingers through the killer's thick hair, massaging circles into his forehead and scalp. Blaine's breathing deepened and his eyes grew darker with desire. He pulled Kurt's face towards his and met his lips in a feverish kiss. The younger man crawled closer, sliding against Blaine until the man had him in his lap. Tongues lashed one another and the cold, dinky room they were in rapidly heated up. It was only when Blaine's hips began to grind up into him that Kurt suddenly broke away from him. Panting lightly against each other, their eyes stared intensely for many seconds.

'I call bullshit.' Kurt said at last.

Blaine blinked, his eyebrows scrunching together in confusion. 'Excuse me?'

'That story,' Kurt licked his lips. 'It's a lie. You made it up.' He then slid off his lap and leaned against the wall, catching his breath. When Blaine continued to stare, he elaborated. 'You can't be any older than twenty five. That means the story, if true, happened within the last ten years.' Blaine nodded slowly, as if agreeing that what had been said so far was true yet he still did not know where Kurt was going with this. 'I just felt your hands, Blaine, and I don't think you've ever cut yourself as bad as you said you did. And you said you needed stitches when you fell as a kid,' He glanced to Blaine's forehead, 'Stitches usually leave scarring and I don't see anything.'

An impressed smile began to seep onto Blaine's wet lips. He crawled over to Kurt and forced his way between his legs so he could trap him against the wall. 'That was a pretty sneaky way of finding out. I'm proud of you. But,' He bit Kurt's jawline tenderly, 'sometimes even the worst of injuries heal completely. You're placing a lot of faith in your assumptions.'

Kurt swallowed hard and closed his eyes. 'Or maybe I just don't believe a little knock on the head could mess you up as bad as you are.' He grew nervous after saying it; Blaine had paused, his lips stalling over his skin for many seconds.

At last, Blaine laughed against him. 'I swear to god, no one else could say what you say to me and live another day. You are my only exception.' With that, he hoisted Kurt up over his shoulder and turned to head up the stairs. 'A shower will do us good: I can clean all that shit off you and wash that foul language out of your mouth.' Kurt knew washing was only a small part of what they would do in that shower.

* * *

'Now, show me the six lethal puncture areas.' His arm moving like an emotionless robot, Kurt pointed at various sections of the naked male's body before them. Blaine's chin rested on the teen's shoulder and he hummed in approval. 'Good. You're a good student, Kurt. I give you an A-plus.'

Kurt didn't respond but for once it was not due to fear, worry or nausea: he was exhausted. Mentally and physically drained, he let his head roll back and Blaine easily took on his weight. 'Can we end it for today, please?' He felt Blaine grin at his manners and the hands around his waist rubbed gentle circles over his clothes.

'Sure thing, baby.' Blaine kissed his neck as he tossed the sheet over the body to cover it up. He then took his prisoner's hand and led him upstairs to the living room couch. Blaine sat and, without needing directed, Kurt lay down and placed his head on Blaine's lap. Loving fingers ran through his hair. Kurt's mind was beyond caring that he was taking comfort in the touch. His eyelids closed over and darkness beckoned him. He gave a small sigh of relief, his hand curling into Blaine's leg – his make-shift pillow. He could feel those hazel eyes watching him and he anticipated that Blaine was going to speak many seconds before he finally did. 'We won't be using a real person tomorrow.' He began, 'I want to focus on the neck and jugular, but until you know what you're doing we'll just be using a dummy. It's far too messy if you get it wrong.'

Kurt made a sound of understanding before murmuring a soft 'Thank you.' A further few minutes passed. Then, he rolled himself onto his back and looked up at the other man sleepily. 'You didn't tell me one of your stories today.' He commented lightly.

Blaine raised his eyebrows in amusement. 'Don't tell me you actually like hearing them, Kurt!'

Kurt shrugged. The hand in his hair drifted down to stroke his cheeks. The action made him yawn. 'They aren't nice to listen to...but one of them is true and I still want to know what made you...well, you.'

'I think someone might need to have a nap before he hears today's story,' Blaine smirked, teasing him with his tone.

'I'm fine. I'll close my eyes and listen.'

'If you insist.'

'Mmm-hmm.'

* * *

'_Fag!'_

Before he could react, Blaine was slammed in the chest and he toppled over a trash can. As he landed on the cafeteria floor, he was aware of many things: the pain from the side he fell on, the disgusting gloop-like mess of his lunch tipping over his front and face, and the mixture of gasps and laughter of the students around him.

'_We operate a zero-tolerance policy on bullying in this school. We are proud that all our pupils can walk down the halls feeling safe and respected.'_

Tears of embarrassment stung his eyes but thankfully his glasses were dripping with bolognaise sauce so no one could see past them and witness his weakness. He slipped a little as he got to his feet. Hundreds of gazes were on him but no one offered him a helping hand. With nothing to say, he felt for his book bag and left the cafeteria with his head down.

Authors had often tried to put into words the aching notion of inner pain but Blaine had never read anything in the hundreds upon hundreds of books he owned which truly described how he felt every single day. Hate was not a strong enough feeling. Depression didn't even cover it. It was like an ugly tar-like substance had replaced his insides giving him nothing but heavy, thick and sticky blackness which he was unable to escape from. He used to be able to tell himself that things would get better and that he would soar above all those who put him down the second he graduated but the truth was he doubted he would make it 'til then. He would not get the chance to soar. His own actions would see to that.

His fevered footsteps carried him all the way to the restrooms which were thankfully empty. He wiped his glasses clean but his school book covers, as well as the pages, were pretty ruined. He took a damp paper towel and tried to salvage what he could. He then took off the excess food staining his school blazer. Looking at himself in the mirror; he sighed. Despite his best efforts, he was still a mess.

'Hey, faggot, what are you doing stinking up the place with your germs– go find the girls bathroom, freak,' The voice of Blaine's worst nightmare made his blood run cold. He turned. Jack Solomon stood at the doorway. Though not a big guy, he was broad, his arms thick and swinging like a gorilla's so the exit was very much blocked despite his spiteful comment for Blaine to leave.

Blaine picked up his things nonetheless and crossed his arms to shield his upper body. 'Th-there's no girl bathrooms, it's an all boys school.' He muttered, aware that it was Jack who had pushed him in the cafeteria and the fact he had seemed to follow him out did not seem like a good sign.

His tormentor sneered. 'Then why'd they let a gay shit like you in? You're more girl than guy.'

Knowing there was no reasoning with his bully; Blaine tried to get past him to the door hoping for only a rough shove. No such luck. Jack grabbed his collar and hurled him into the sink. Tears began flooding Blaine's eyes again. _Please just let me leave. There's no one else here – what are you proving? Shit, he's going to beat me up in here._ The other boy approached and loomed over him, fists and feet ready to work their vicious magic on him.

That was when the restroom door opened.

'_You!_' Jack jumped away from Blaine like a bullet. The new voice, filled with anger, was one of authority: Principal Rodgers. For one very foolish moment, Blaine wondered if someone had tried to help him by alerting the head of school staff of his plight but it turned out it was not Jack that Principal Rodgers was aiming his fury at. He was glaring right at Blaine. 'My cafeteria is covered in trash and your lunch! Get back in there this instant and clean it up!' Blaine blinked. _Are you serious?_ The man then glanced to Jack. 'Mister Solomon, I think you'd better be heading for class. Don't want to tarnish that perfect attendance record, do we?' Jack shook his head and an expression of innocence was his cover as he left the bathroom.

Ten minutes later, after picking up lunchtime trash off the floor and mopping away food stains, Blaine broke down in an empty classroom. He couldn't take it anymore. It ended tonight.

* * *

H excused himself for the evening a little after seven. His parents didn't question him at all: they were used to his depressive mood swings, as they called them and as Friday drew to a close they expected him to keep to himself for the weekend. The rope was at the ready under his bed where he had left it. The loop was secure and the ceiling light fixture was low enough for him to toss it over without too much difficulty. His main issue would be fixing it tightly onto something. He wasn't a heavy teenager by any means – quite the opposite – but the last thing he wanted was to miscalculate and have the rope come undone thanks to his weight.

From downstairs, he heard his parents laugh at some television show they were watching.

With the noose prepared and waiting for him, he pulled over his desk chair and shakily stood up on it. The loop fit over his head and he gave it a little pull so it fit him like a secure necklace, just like the website told him to do. _This is it. No chickening out now. It'll all be over in just a second... Never again..._

He let himself fall off the chair.

To his surprise, life did not end. He had expected something to snap, for his brain to be instantly cut off like a wire attacked with pliers. Instead, he just felt a crushing tightness in his throat. Thumping sounds pounded between his ears. He willed himself to ignore it all.

On Monday, word would get around that the resident school loser had killed himself. No one would mourn. No one would utter a word of regret. They'd laugh. They'd sneer. Jack Solomon would be cheering with his friends that their torment had worked so well. Then they would all grow up and have great lives...all the while Blaine's adolescent body would be lying six feet underground.

And that was when everything changed.

_Shit – Shit – Shit – what have I done? I-I don't want to die! Gotta get out – need to reach the knot! _

With one hand straining to lessen the tightness around his neck, the other reached up towards the ceiling where the stray end of the noose hung mere inches from his fingers. He grabbed air. _Come on, please! Please, I changed my mind. I can't die. Not like this, I don't want _them_ to win. There's so much I want to do, please don't let my life end here-!_

The borders of his vision were blackening, his head ready to burst from the pressure. Though he was going blind from it all, he finally felt the rough fibres of the rope grace his fingertips. With some miracle working in his favour, a slight swing later the rope was against his palm. He yanked. The world came crashing around him, or at least he thought it was when he plummeted to the floor. He didn't feel any pain - only relief. He tore the noose off, still blinded by darkness. His throat fought to take in as much air as it could...and he had never felt so alive. Heart pounding and body shaking in a cold sweat, he began to cry.

* * *

On Monday morning, Principal Rodgers was informed that two school pupils had not yet attended class and no parental call had come through to explain their absence. He sat in his office with his trusty telephone and dialled the Solomon household.

'_Jack isn't in class? His father gave him a ride early this morning so he could swim a few laps in the school pool – have his friends seen him?'_

Concern gnawing gingerly at the man's toes, Rodgers tried calling Blaine's parents. There was no answer, so he tried the father's business number. Still no answer. It was peculiar but by no means a reason to panic; it was out of character but boys were prone to cutting the odd class occasionally. He stood up from his desk and reached for his coat. He doubted that seeing both students together pre-tussle in the restrooms the Friday before was simply a coincidence and his first port of call would be to make a home visit and check if Blaine's parents knew of their whereabouts.

That was when his office door burst open. Mr Johnstone, the soccer coach, hurtled in. His pale and sweaty face caused Rodgers to stop in his tracks: something was very, very wrong.

A freshman had sounded the alarm when red liquid seeping from the janitor's closet had caused him to slip. Jack's bloodied body sat perched in a bleach-fillled bucket, the accompanying mop wedged into his slack mouth. His hands and ankles taped together, it had seemed the teen had suffered a severe blow to the back of the head. The area reeked of pure chlorine. On the inner side of the closet door, a message had been scrawled with blood: _He's lucky I didn't fuck his ass with the broom first – love, The Faggot_

* * *

'Okay, that's how I _think_ the asshole was found,' Blaine chuckled, offering a shrug. 'I was long gone by that time.'

Kurt hummed, far more awake now than he had been when the story began. Thoughtfully he stared at the ceiling. Blaine's hand was still playing in his hair. 'I see a running theme,' he mused. 'You keep killing your parents.'

'I didn't like them very much,'

'I can tell.' Kurt leaned up to sit on the couch properly. Blaine held onto his waist as if expecting him to try to move further away, but Kurt made no such move. 'I'm guessing you killed them sometime that weekend?'

'Actually, on the Friday.' Blaine nodded, 'Right after I almost killed myself. I wasn't as violent with them – poisoning was an easy way – and it opened up my whole weekend. Those couple of days were the most eye-opening of my life and I knew I had to embrace this new Blaine. It took almost dying to find him and I couldn't let him slip away.' And then something strange happened: Blaine began to look nervous. He watched Kurt's pensive face and appeared unsettled with how little he could read it. 'Babe...what are you thinking?'

Kurt opened his mouth to answer but then caught the words before they left him. He pressed his lips together and shook his head. 'Tomorrow. I'll tell you what I'm thinking tomorrow after you've told me the last story.'

The older man carefully peeled him towards his chest, forcing Kurt to straddle his lap. 'Hmm, when you have to guess which story is the true one. Is there one sticking out?'

'There might be,' Kurt muttered, guarding his thoughts with a well-formed stare. Blaine did not look away. Their chests flat against each other, they could both here two very different heart beats: one was going at a calm, steady pace and the other...the other was racing fast. 'Tomorrow, Blaine. You'll find out tomorrow.'

* * *

When the basement door was finally closed and locked for the weekend, Kurt gave a long awaited sigh of relief. He knew his reprieve from the gore was going to be short-lived but Blaine had promised there would be no talk of killing until Monday morning. Perhaps he could be reasonable sometimes, Kurt thought as he left Blaine to dispose of the dummy they had been working on that day. It's neck area – riddled with pen marks and arrows – had been cut to pieces for the sake of teaching Kurt how to slaughter like a master.

_Happier thoughts, Kurt. Scrape back some sanity. _

He left their rental house and timidly stepped into the large back garden. Through the fences rose up high, the sun was still able to bathe him in late-afternoon warmth. After days of working in the chilling basement, this was heavenly. He stretched out across the lawn and took a deep inhale over the fresh blades of grass. With a focus on finding his inner core once more, he strove to empty his head with all the sights he had been forced to view that week. Birds singing in the still countryside air merged with faint sounds of crickets. _Listen to nature, Kurt. It hasn't changed. He will never be able to alter nature._

Though Blaine made no sound as he followed Kurt outside, the teen still knew he was there even with his eyes closed and pressing into the ground. When the firm body slid up against his rear and a firm hand smoothed up his arched spine, he slowly eased up. 'I'm hungry,' He said softly. His admittance was something of a miracle: he had not felt actual hunger for a very long time. Perhaps it was due to not having to witness death that day or maybe he had managed to heal his soul in those few precious moments in the garden – whatever the reason, by feeling a desire to eat he put a wide grin on Blaine's face.

'Finally,' The dark haired Adonis cried, patting affectionately on Kurt's stomach. 'I should take advantage of this moment and stuff you like a Thanksgiving turkey.'

Kurt pulled a face. 'I'd kill for a Thanksgiving dinner right about now.' The moment he said it he felt guilty. Blaine sniggered at his choice of words but was kind enough not to comment on it. 'Ugh, please just feed me so I can go to bed.'

'I took the liberty of calling for a pizza. Feel free to show your appreciation.' Kurt was spared the awkward and perhaps anxious decision of complying with Blaine's request for returned affection as the other man pushed Kurt onto the grass immediately and crawled on top of him, running his fingers up his shirt.

'Th-thank you,' Kurt breathed, with no choice but to lay back and accept the sucking sensations against his collar.

However, the almost-guaranteed expectation of a quick fuck before a delivery man arrived was shockingly tossed aside when Blaine rose up and sat back on the grass. He looked down at Kurt's lightly panting lips. 'You look beyond sexy when you're turned on.'

Kurt blushed and looked away. 'I'm not turned on.' Blaine sniggered again and then turned his head towards the sun, eyes closing. For a brief – _very _brief – moment, Kurt remembered that day's lessons. Attack the neck _here_, go for the jugular. Slice. Stab. Guaranteed kill. Easy kill.

In utter alarm, Kurt forced his stare away from Blaine as if by simply looking at him the other man could tell what just went through his mind. He was not stupid enough to think he could ever try to hurt Blaine – not really. They were beyond that, or more specifically, Kurt could not fathom any harm coming to his tormentor and the subject of his nightmares. What did that mean for him? Was he doomed? Had he been dragged too far for him to find his way back to the Kurt who would have done anything to take a monster like Blaine out of this world?

As Kurt broached this tender point, Blaine murmured 'I'm not going to lie, Kurt. I really want you to sense the truth.'

Kurt blinked. Still distracted, he repeated his words from the day before. 'I'm not going to tell you anything until I've heard the last one.'

Blaine bit his lip and slowly opened his eyes, turning his gaze away from the soft mellowing sun. 'Well, this won't take long.' He smiled faintly, 'Are you ready?' Kurt nodded and lay back on his elbows in preparation for the final tale. Blaine simply shrugged and looked back to the sun. 'I was born this way.'

And then he said nothing else. Kurt watched him, waiting for more but nothing else came. 'That's it?' He then asked, sounding far more dissatisfied than he had intended.

Blaine tilted his head. 'That's it. I'm surprised you didn't expect it.'

In a strange way, Kurt felt cheated. 'You're surprised I didn't expect a Lady Gaga quote to be used in your defence for butchering and torturing innocent people?'

Thankfully Blaine found Kurt's accusing tone humorous. He gave a wolfish grin. 'Trust me, babe, I'm not trying to defend what I am or what I do. You wanted to know the reason and I've told you. This is me. I haven't known a different way of life and I can't change. It's the simplest and truest explanation.' Despite shaking his head in frustration, Kurt held his tongue. His mind whirled. Over the past few days he had built up his own opinions on Blaine's truth-or-lies narratives but that last one certainly threw a monkey wrench into the works. He chewed on his lip and stared at the grass hard. He could feel Blaine's eyes on him, the atmosphere draining itself of light-heartedness the longer Kurt sat in silence. The older boy was getting apprehensive again, though Kurt could not understand why. Surely Blaine did not really care about Kurt's personal feelings towards how he got to this point in his life – if he did, why risk telling him so bluntly? – so Kurt couldn't quite accommodate Blaine's anxiousness. What did he have to be nervous about? For the moment, Kurt brushed that question aside as Blaine asked 'So...which story do you think is true?'

Kurt lifted his head up towards the sky to indicate he had heard him, but he hesitated before answering. 'You told me each one with complete conviction. You're a natural liar, so I'm not surprised. So...I can only lead by the process of elimination.' Though Kurt could not see it, Blaine's expression changed. A frown had flickered before being replaced with a more passive look. 'I get why a person would lose their sense of sensitivity growing up in rough neighbourhoods with no love from parents but...' He gave a short, humourless chuckle, 'you have never been in a gang. I can tell. You're a loner and I think only Sebastian and I have ever been considered worthy of tagging along. So for that reason, I'm ruling out Monday's version.'

'All fair assessments, I suppose,' Blaine spoke with neutrality, giving nothing away to either support or deny his statement.

Kurt moved on. 'Now, what did you tell me on Tuesday... Right. The unwanted, straight engagement.' He pulled a face. 'I'm not sure... I can't imagine parents being that cruel to their son. But, it happens.' Uncertain, he thought on to Wednesday's story. 'I want to rule out the one you say you hit your head.' He looked around and noticed Blaine's eyes twinkling in amusement. He raised a sceptical brow. 'I know you said I was basing a lot on assumptions but seeing as that's really all I have to go on – besides gut instinct – I'm still calling it out as false.'

'It's your decision,' Blaine commented, still unwilling to give even a hint of a clue.

Feeling more frustrated at the lack of help, Kurt rapidly brought up the day before. 'At the risk of putting my own high school experience ahead of true logic, I think you being bullied might have pushed you to extremes.' This time, Blaine sat up straight on the grass and listened carefully. At last, Kurt felt like he was getting somewhere. 'Teen suicides happen all the time – many times because of bullying brought on by sexuality. I can't imagine you being a weak guy but there's every chance an older kid targeted you. Sometimes people break, sometimes they snapped.' He looked into those hazel pools, filled with feelings he could not place, and murmured slowly, 'maybe you snapped. And no one was able to put you back into one piece.'

Many long seconds ticked by, though neither of them seemed to notice. Questions and answers were fleeing back and forth between their gazes. Not even the strength of the blazing sun could interrupt them. The dark haired man gradually smiled. 'What about today's version?'

Kurt instantly shook his head. 'I don't believe it for one second.' And this time, Kurt was confident. His conviction surprised even Blaine. 'You say you couldn't change. Not even if you really, really wanted to would you be able to change – that's what you claimed today. But...what about me?' This time, Blaine let his confusion show. 'All these months. All the lives lost. Blaine, you're trying to change me.' A wince. 'You think I am capable of change. You're certain of it. You are staking our entire lives on it – especially mine. And one thing I know you are not is a hypocrite.'

With that, Blaine was left to give the smallest nods in understanding. 'If I thought it was impossible for me to be any different, I could be knowingly chasing after a goal that might not ever be reached.' He simplified. Kurt gave a firm sound of agreement. 'Alright...I can see your point. So, which history of mine do you think is the real one?'

Having eliminated most of his options, Kurt weighed up what was left. Still hesitating, not wanting to commit to an answer yet knowing he needed to, he scrunched up his face. 'I think...you were put through hell in school and no one cared to help...so you changed in order to protect yourself and get some type of misguided and extreme revenge.' There. He had chosen. After the words left him he felt more assured. Out of all the options he felt like that one had made the most sense and had been told in a very raw and personal way. He had done well figuring out Blaine's past. Or...at least he thought so until Blaine's face fell. Disappointment. Kurt now wasn't so certain, so he swallowed hard and asked 'Well – am I right?'

The older man then stood up and gave a small stretch. He did not answer the question. Instead, he simply turned round and strolled back into the house. 'The pizza will be here soon. I'm gonna wash up.'

The door shut behind him and Kurt was left feeling oddly cold. The reaction was very out of character for Blaine. However, Kurt knew exactly why he had not received a word of confirmation: he had chosen wrong.

* * *

After paying the delivery boy and trudging into the kitchen, Blaine stood with his hands pressed on the counter for many minutes. Disappointment didn't even begin to describe-

The sound of Kurt coming in from the garden stirred him up. He watched the love of his twisted life teeter by the door as if he might not be welcome. To Blaine, Kurt would always be welcome. Even with this...setback, he felt nothing less than pure devotion and desire for him. Kurt's wrong answer made it even more stinging. Perhaps the teen did not know him at all?

With a motion of his head, he wordlessly invited Kurt over with the promise he was not angry and that their game of the week didn't _really_ matter. The teenager carefully walked forward. Blaine offered him a plate and told him to help himself before leading them through to the dining room where they sat at opposite ends of the table.

'I've upset you,' Kurt mumbled after a few moments, staring at his pizza like he no longer felt like eating.

'It was just a game, Kurt,' replied Blaine, using his smoothest and warmest tone. However, his smile did not convince the boy. 'You had a one-in-five chance of guessing right, and that's what it was: guesswork. I had hoped, for fun, that you would pick the right one but the odds were against you. Don't worry about it.'

'You're lying,' Kurt almost whined, looking alarmingly distraught for some reason though it shocked both of them to see it.

Blaine shook his head and looked down at his plate. 'I'm not.'

'Well you're not telling me the truth, either,'

Nothing was said. Kurt could not understand why he felt like such a failure. Before choosing one of Blaine's stories, he did not feel any pressure or fear of going for the wrong one. But now...after seeing Blaine's face... Why did he even care? Furious with himself, he almost missed something. His own words.

'_You're not telling me the truth, either'_

Out of nowhere, Blaine's own words from earlier that week struck his head like a flash of lightening.

_A very important lesson, Kurt: mix truth with lies. You'll never find a more deceptive method. It's how I do things and it never lets me down._

Kurt's eyes lifted and focused on Blaine's slumped shoulders.

_People believe they know what's going on but in reality the lie is right in front of them._

In the story when he killed his mother in the woods, didn't he trick her? A truth with a lie – a breadcrumb trail of trickery.

_You are my only exception. Only you._

'Blaine.'

From across the table, the twenty-something year old sighed and brought up his tired gaze. 'Mmm?' He was surprised to see a spark in Kurt's eyes. Determination and seriousness.

'I think I deserve a second shot.' Kurt stated. Blaine shook his head, moments off insisting Kurt should just forget about it – he certainly didn't want to hear a second wrong answer – but he was cut off before he begun. 'I know where I went wrong before. I deserve one last try at working you out, and if I'm wrong,' Kurt took an uneasy breath, 'Then I'll keep working on the leftover body parts this weekend.'

Narrowing his eyes and uncertain as to where this sudden confidence came from, Blaine wondered if he had let something slip. He was positive he hadn't. So, nervous at his own notions of intrigue, he sat back and gave a slow, measured nod. 'Alright. So which version do you think was right this time?'

'All of them,'

Blaine stared at him incredulously. 'What?'

'All of them,' Kurt repeated. 'And at the same time, none of them.'

Unsure how else to answer, Blaine gave a wary 'Explain.'

With that, Kurt rose up from his seat and moved around the table. 'You're favourite form of deception, remember? Mix truth with lies. Each version you told me, as they are, are false. But you injected parts of what really happened in your life. I think you have a brother called Cooper. I think he _is_ alive somewhere because he's the only constant that you let live more than once. You hated your parents, you described their deaths, so if you didn't kill them I'm willing to bet you wish you had.' Blaine stared at him with wide eyes. This time he gave nothing away out of disbelief rather than trying to conceal anything. 'I think you believe you were born different but instead of being unable to change you simply don't want to. You were bullied, but you are not suicidal. You were steered by your parents or your neighbourhood but you didn't let it happen long. I think you're still playing your games. And, more to the point,' Kurt leaned on the table and met Blaine's eye level. He softened his voice to the point he sounded truly apologetic, 'you wanted me to guess it right because you want me to know the real you. You showed me the truth in your own way and I didn't even notice it. You probably didn't even know you'd care this much, but you do.'

Several beats past without a word. Then, Blaine stood up. Kurt followed suit and looked up into his eyes. 'And you?' Blaine asked. 'Do you care?'

It was as much of an admittance as he was willing to give – not to mention the sheer excitement practically resonating from his very skin. Kurt realised he had finally got it right. The question had not been expected so he stuttered out an answer. 'I-I care about something. About...understanding you.'

Kurt had seem many smiles grace Blaine's face within the previous few months, but never before had he seen this one. It was brimming with sheer exhilaration and pride. Love. Fear prickled inside Kurt's chest when he recognised it. _Love_. Blaine... Kurt refused to believe that this man could feel something so pure as real love, so it was frightening to see it right there in front of him, shining out like the sun in a cloudless sky. Saying nothing else, Blaine dipped forward and swung Kurt up into his arms. The smaller boy gave a cry of surprise and held on tight as he was swiftly carried upstairs.

That night, Kurt was made love to for the very first time.

* * *

A.N. At about 20,000 words, I am _out_. Apologies for the grammar/spelling/plot/continuality/standard of writing errors but hopefully you still want to stick around for the next chapter. Please be kind and leave a review or private message so I don't feel so embarrassed about such a long and arduous update!


	7. We All Have Our Breaking Points

A.N. Is there any way I can just pretend the three month delay in an update just didn't happen? Sorry for the hold up! Things haven't been great. I wrote half of this chapter within a week of my last but then life just got so unbelievably stressful and busy I couldn't even find a minute to reunite with my laptop, never mind open up my writing folder. Sadly, after the holidays it seems like another few months of hell and no sleep so my goal is to use the festive season to my advantage and sort out a few plans and rush out a few bits and pieces. That's the dream, anyway... Hope you are all well and happy as we near the end of yet another year!

I'm very aware that readers from the first two Funny Games parts have decided to stop reading for various reasons relating to the plot going 'too far' – I repeat that I am fine with that but one request is you don't send me a review simply saying you aren't going to be following the fic anymore. I'm not offended or apologetic when this happens but I ask that you remember a wholly negative review – or an 'I'm out' line – isn't helpful and in fact puts me down in the dumps for a while. I say this again because this chapter...well, if you're upset with the treatment of Kurt so far then you're about to read a whole new level. So if you decide this isn't for you any more then I hope to see you again in a different, more appropriate fic, and if you have anything friendly, supportive or constructive to tell me then I look forward to your review! Sorry for all the talk on this but I've had to delete a lot of flames and it isn't fun. Also, I messed up the planning: basically this was supposed to be two separate updates but then I realised a plot flaw so I'm trying my best to correct it by merging these together.

**Note: ** After this chapter there will be a time leap – a few months – and the last leg of the story will take place. I. E. Final chapters. 

* * *

**We All Have Our Breaking Points**

* * *

'Lying cocksucker – I _know_ you can give me more,' Sebastian snarled. His words and the venom of which they were spoken were not as potent as usual. Instead, his deep and uneven intakes of breath gave way to obvious pain which racked his body mercilessly. He squeezed his eyes shut as his handcuffed wrists strained against the metal. The hurt was bringing on feelings of nausea but his stomach seemed to be so twisted in dealing with the pain that it couldn't summon the energy to let him vomit.

The doctor watching him was looking on with pity for the first time since ever meeting Sebastian. For some reason it gave the killer no comfort to know his begrudging carer was actually saddened by his pain, rather it filled him with furious shame that he was really that pathetic that his evil deeds were now being overlooked. 'I'm sorry, but I gave you the highest dose of pain medication I could just an hour ago. To give you anything else now would kill you.'

'Liar,' Sebastian gasped. Sweat was pouring off of him now. Up until today, his bouts of agony only lasted for twenty minutes at the most but today it still throbbed on three hours later. Exhausted, he wished someone would just knock him out. Better yet – just kill him, because they both knew it was only going to get worse. A week ago, when these incidents first became severe enough to warrant internal examinations, the doctor had informed him that his stab wound had become deeply infected. Sebastian had questioned why it had happened after so long after the stabbing itself but the reasoning behind it was lost when the worst of news was finally revealed. _No current treatment. No way of combating the infection. It will continue to spread and decay until it destroys the affected organs. Yes, that would bring about death._

Knowing he would die had never truly concerned Sebastian since joining Blaine all those years ago. After all, when you see death every day there is a lovely sense of immunity which makes it far easier to consider your own end. But Sebastian had always seen himself leaving this world in a rapid gunfire with cops or in a high speed crash. Something explosive, something memorable. Not once had he spared a thought for the possibility that he would slowly decay over an agonising period, feeling his body suffer and eventually collapse under an insidious sludge of an infection. He imagined his insides bubbling with black tar, oozing out over his bones and under his skin. The pain helped with that imagery. Each day he grew weaker and power was being sapped from his muscles. _I can't believe I'm really dying. Like...this. _

'I will come back as soon as it's time and administer a little more for you.' The doctor promised though Sebastian had given up on listening to him. A small part of him wanted to struggle against the aching but he knew he had to lie still: his visitor would arrive soon and he had to reserve as much energy as possible for the best part of his miserable day.

'You're staying a little longer than usual,' Sebastian commented, his eyes on the clock. He sounded tired but surprisingly happy for someone who was apparently writhing in pain an hour before Finn had arrived. The teen hummed in response and shrugged. Sebastian turned his head slowly to look at him. 'Have you finally realised how wonderful my company is and now you plan to stay as long as possible?'

Finn gave way to a small smile at the obvious sarcastic tone. He went along with it. 'I was hoping it wouldn't be obvious,'

Sebastian chuckled.

Rearranging himself in his chair, Finn took in a deep and slow breath. Maybe it was because the jackass was worn out or that Finn was very conscious of how bad his health was, but Sebastian was a great deal more bearable today than ever before. According to the doctor who had pulled Finn aside when he entered the hospital prison that morning, their previous assessment and life expectancy for their patient had been severely altered. It was unlikely Sebastian would make it through another couple of months. Alarmed, Finn had asked if surgery was an option, or experimental treatment, but it had been a no. It wasn't as if Finn now _cared_ about Sebastian's life or well-being – how could he? – but after hearing the criminal's promise to one day give him information pivotal in finding Kurt, he feared that day would not come and all his hard work would have been for nothing, and his last shred of hope would die along with Sebastian.

Swallowing away his deep concerns, Finn asked 'So, what do you know about Blaine's past?'

Such a question was out of the blue; in the couple of hours he had been here Finn had said almost nothing and had not yet brought up Blaine or Kurt's name. However, such sudden questions were typical of their meetings. Sebastian closed his eyes and gave the briefest of shrugs. 'Very...very little.' He murmured. 'He always spoke about this brother he had. I never got his name. But Blaine thought about him a lot. My guess was he was the first person he killed.'

'He killed his family?' Finn asked, sitting up straight with his gaze growing bigger.

A slight turn of his head, Sebastian pulled a face. 'I would be genuinely surprised if he hadn't. He didn't say, but I would put money on it.' He paused, and then he opened his eyes to squint up at the ceiling as if trying to remember more. 'And he only watched football when this team from Michigan were playing, so I figured he's from there. But who knows?'

'Clearly not you,' Finn shifted his chair forward so he could stretch his legs out and place his feet on Sebastian's bed. The patient didn't comment on the move. 'Help me out here, though: you guys worked together for years, right? What the hell did you talk about if he was always so secretive?'

Again, Sebastian laughed and he nodded as if agreeing it was a strange setup. 'You find stuff to talk about when you do what we did. I don't remember ever struggling for conversation.'

In all honesty, Finn hadn't really cared about what Sebastian was willing to share about Blaine's past. He believed that he didn't know much else than what he had already divulged, which was odd enough already seeing as Finn didn't trust him at all normally. However, this preamble was just to segue into the real topic he wanted to get to. 'Then let's change the subject to someone you do know about.' Sebastian glanced to him. Finn hesitated. 'Tell me about your background. Tell me anything.'

He had asked a similar question on his second visit to the hospital but had received a snarky reply. Now, after many more promising discussions under their belt, he wanted to try again. This was not to gather new information, though; it was to find out if Sebastian would tell him the truth. Because unbeknownst to the patient...Finn knew almost everything.

_(The previous evening...)_

_Uncle Louis was waiting anxiously at the front door when Finn finally returned home that night. Instantly, the teen thought the worst when he was informed that police were waiting for him inside. They had not given Louis even a hint of a clue as to what their visit was about so they were both shivering wrecks when they met with the officers in the living room. _

'_What's going on? Is it about Kurt? Why are you here?'_

'_Mr Hudson, within the next few days new details regarding the killer named Sebastian will be made public.' One of the officers began. 'We thought it best to tell you in advance.' Finn was stunned by her words. He couldn't bring himself to sit down; his knees wouldn't bend. The officer went on, 'There has been an on-going search for any medical records matching his and two days ago there was a hit. Dental records. His full name is Sebastian Smythe, and he's been missing for nearly seven years. If you have a few minutes, we could go over what we now know.'_

And those few minutes turned into several hours. Finn was given an intimate tour of Sebastian's life and subsequent disappearance. He didn't sleep a wink that night. Instead, he just looked over the police report again and again, trying to make sense of his feelings. Sebastian had a family. He had a house. He went to school. He was popular – his school records spoke volumes – and his prospects were beyond what he could ever comprehend. What had happened that night his parents were killed? He was so convinced Blaine murdered his own family – does that mean Sebastian also killed his? Did Blaine do it? Was that how they met, or did that fateful event happen even earlier? But there was another piece of the puzzle which didn't fit in: what had happened with Hunter Clarington, the boy Sebastian had been apparently dating, to result in his own ugly death?

As Finn waited for Sebastian to finish thinking about his original question of his background, he wondered how much of the truth – if any – he would reveal. 'I...' The murderer began slowly, 'lived an otherwise boring and unassuming life before Blaine entered the picture.'

'Did you have a boyfriend?' Finn couldn't stop himself from asking, though he told himself he shouldn't ask any more probing questions in this one sitting.

With a small laugh and a twinkle in his eye, Sebastian seemed to be gazing fondly upwards into his own imagination. 'Of course I did. I take offence that you would think otherwise.'

Resisting the urge to jump on his admission, Finn forced himself to sit back and be silent for a few moments. Finally, he continued 'Say Blaine hadn't come into your life at all,' Sebastian now looked at him again, 'where do you think you'd be now? What would you be doing?'

Thoughtfulness washed over the pale man's face. 'If not for Blaine...' He bit his lip and his brows furrowed. 'I guess I'd be a lawyer by now, top in my field. Big house, cars...married, maybe.'

A sad smile now stretched over Finn's mouth, almost as if he was wincing. 'Sounds like a pretty cool life.'

Sebastian continued staring up at the ceiling. His eyes looked shiny and wet though no tears fell. He said nothing. Sometime later, Finn bid him goodbye and left. 

* * *

The night was young but very still. Earlier, Kurt could hear crickets out in the back yard but Blaine had since started a movie so the sound of the glorious _Moulin Rouge_ musical was drowning out any sign of life from the outdoors. Blaine had also since fallen asleep in Kurt's arms, stretched out together on the couch with the curly haired man's back pressed up against the other's front.

He must have been exhausted, Kurt thought as he looked down at the sleeping face. Only hours earlier when they were leaving their late-afternoon hit on a home downtown – _an older man named Archie who was probably going to die soon anyway if Blaine hadn't stabbed him and Kurt hadn't given him a mercy shot to the head_ – Blaine had asked how he could cheer him up. Kurt's response had been to watch a musical and forget about the bone breaking practice Blaine had planned for them. To the teen's utter shock, his wish was granted so long as Blaine chose the musical. The typical silent drive home from a kill was abandoned as soon as _Moulin Rouge_ was mentioned. Perhaps it was due to Kurt's need for normality which caused him to act like he _hadn't_ just taken a life against his will, but whatever the reason Kurt was determined not to feel bad about it now. They agreed that the love story was flawed yet beautiful, not to mention the wonderful choice of songs that they – of course – knew every word to and began to sing in order in the car. They had sat in the driveway for a further ten minutes just finishing off the last of the songs before coming inside. It was another ugly period of time Kurt forgot himself and viewed Blaine as something other than the monster he had been since first meeting. These periods were occurring more and more often these days. The horror of the blood and screams for mercy were not haunting Kurt's dreams anymore. As much as he cries each time Blaine mentally and emotionally guts him, his tears dry up when they meet the open air minutes later.

Something was happening. Kurt was not stupid; he knew he was becoming a little immune. However, he was building up a strong plate of ignorant armour to avoid addressing the issue. Acknowledging it would mean dealing with himself, and he wasn't strong enough to take on that battle. It was far easier to ignore the truth and go on pretending he wasn't losing himself along the way. Blaine made it so simple to do so.

Was this why he was now confronted with it? Blaine was asleep and not able to distract him. Kurt's attention to the movie was dwindling, only able to take in a few words and phrases along the way.

_When will I begin to live again? One day I'll fly away... leave all this to yesterday. Why live life from dream to dream, and dread the day when dreaming ends?_

Wait, who said that? Kurt looked back to the television. Of course, it was the song Blaine had let him sing solo in the car. The man had nestled back in his seat and watched as Kurt sung his gentle heart out. It was funny how at that point the words had meant so little yet now they seemed eerie. With a light touch of his finger, Kurt traced the older man's jawline and down the centre of his forehead, over his nose and across his dark lips. What was this person doing to him? If Kurt was to ever escape... If somehow someone managed to save him from this life, would Kurt be able to scrape back the humanity which had been worn away? The thought caused him to shiver despite being thoroughly warm beneath their shared blanket. The blanket that was mostly on Kurt because Blaine didn't want him to be chilly.

The biggest enigma of it all was Blaine and how Kurt struggled to place his feelings for him. It was no secret that since guessing Blaine's story-telling trick a few weeks ago things had changed. There was no more jumping at the mere sight of his kidnapper. There was no sense of danger. Blaine was so immensely proud of him and in turn Kurt felt a notion of achievement whenever he stared into those amber eyes. He found himself staring into his eyes a great deal more frequently. _He's an evil human being. I know he is, I'll always know that. I just wish I wasn't so accepting now. _

The familiar notes and sweet melodic tune caught Kurt's attention. _Come What May_ was now being performed. 'This will be our song,' Blaine had said a couple of hours ago, taking Kurt's hand, 'Singing this to someone is, like...' He had bit his lip thoughtfully as he leaned over into him, 'it's more intimate than sex. Don't you think?' Kurt had simply nodded. He did agree. Sure, he probably wouldn't have put it exactly like that – especially given Blaine's deterioration of self-restraint since that night of true passion they had shared – but he couldn't deny fact. He looked back down at Blaine's peaceful expression. He pouted a little when he was sleeping. Kurt gently rose up further for a better look. The same face that haunted his entire waking and sleeping life since the night he lost his dad now gave a sense of comfort and security. He was safe with Blaine. Blaine wasn't going to hurt him. He loved Kurt.

_The greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return._

Kurt looked back to the television at those words and was surprised to see the credits begin to roll. The movie was over and Kurt felt like it had only just begun. He wished Blaine hadn't fallen asleep because Kurt had just done what he was determined not to do: think about things. With slow, careful and measured movements, Kurt climbed over Blaine without stirring him and headed towards the kitchen for a cool glass of water. He downed the whole glass in one gulp and then rested his palms on the counter. The trepidation was returning. He closed his eyes.

He could feel it coming. Something big. He had spotted Blaine with a small pocket-sized calendar the other morning but even without that giveaway he could sense they would be upping their antics considerably. But what else could Blaine force him to do? It was never good to ask that question. Kurt would find out, and if the gut feeling inside him was correct, he'd find out soon. It was like an outstretched hand just closing in on those last few inches to grab his shoulder.

Arms slipped around Kurt's waist and the teen gasped, accidentally knocking his empty glass to the floor. Both he and Blaine looked down as the broken pieces scattered across the tiled floor. 'Shit,' Kurt whispered.

'Sorry,' Blaine kissed his shoulder apologetically, 'I didn't mean to scare you,' Without another word, he tucked his head under Kurt's arm and picked him up, steadily carrying him out of the glass-shard danger-zone. 'Are you alright?'

Kurt nodded, gingerly putting his feet back on the ground and letting himself be turned to face the other man. 'Fine. I just... I thought you were sound asleep.'

Blaine gave a tired smile and blinked slowly; clearly he was still very drowsy. 'I was until you left. I don't know, I just woke myself up to find you.' The arms returned to wrapping themselves around Kurt again and the dark haired male buried his face in his neck. 'Sorry I slept through the movie. I made such a big deal about watching it...'

In an act so natural that Kurt refused to question it now, the teen rubbed Blaine's upper arms comfortingly. 'Don't worry, I wasn't all there either.' A pleased sound came from the other man. 'Uh...Blaine. I need to ask you something. About your – I mean, our – plans.' Blaine made another sound which encouraged Kurt to go on. Wondering if he would be able to figure out a way to ask without getting a suspicious reply, Kurt knew if he stalled any further he might well be dealing with a slumbering Blaine snoozing on his shoulder. 'I can tell we'll be leaving this house soon. You want to move onto something else. I just... I want to know what to expect.'

For many moments, it seemed as though he had left it too long as Blaine's silence implied sleep. But then the man pulled back to look into Kurt's eyes. He smiled softly. 'Do you trust me?' Automatically, Kurt nodded. 'Trust me to tell you when the time is right. There's somewhere I want us to be in a few months. Before we go there, there's a couple of things I need you to be ready for. I am going to push you, Kurt, but you'll be able to deal with it. I wouldn't be planning on leaving at the end of the week if I didn't think you'd be ready.'

'The end of the week...?' Kurt wasn't sure why he was sounding so surprised: he knew it was going to be soon. The fear, however, was very well placed. 'What...what will happen at the end of the week?'

Blaine paused. Then he leaned down and kissed Kurt's nose. 'One more life, Kurt. Like...an exam. Just to test your skills from the basement, okay? Nothing to worry about.' His hand slipped into the teen's and he gave a little tug. 'C'mon, I won't be able to sleep without you beside me.'

As soothing as his voice was, Kurt was not able to sleep for hours after they climbed into bed. _One more life...it won't be that simple. I know it._

* * *

Was it a custodial sentence-worthy crime to steal a piece of police evidence? Don't act dumb, Finn, you know it is. But playing dumb was all Finn had to go on if he was caught. At that moment though, as he hurried along through the torrential rain towards the hospital prison entrance, he didn't care so long as he got just a few more minutes to put the police evidence to use.

It had been an eye-opening forty-eight hours. He had taken so many risks and acted without forethought but he knew that, with time running out fast in terms of Sebastian's life, there was little room for thoughtful consideration. It had begun as he had been leaving his dying ex-tormentor two days ago. One of the detectives on Kurt's disappearance case had been waiting for him by his car, armed with a brown folder. Inside had been more details regarding the night Sebastian's family had been murdered. _'Westerville, Ohio. I secured a special pass if you wanted to go over the police department's files. You might find something of use to you, something you could confront him with. Are you interested?'_ Finn was. No, he was desperately interested. Since first hearing the officer's rendition of what they think went down in that house, Finn knew there was more to it. Sebastian had, of course, downright refused to answer any questions posed to him by the police but with Finn he was more accepting. That was why Finn had to go and rummage through the evidence himself.

But it all came with a price, as Finn discovered as he planned his day trip back to his home state: even at his fastest, he would miss a day of visiting. Sebastian's threat hung in the air like an ugly, decaying scent that followed Finn as he packed, boarded a plane and flew across the country. _He's going to be furious when he realises I'm not coming. He's going to make me pay. Unless...unless I come prepared. Please let there be something – anything – significant in Westerville._ Upon his arrival in the city, an officer picked him up and took him to somewhere unexpected: the Smythe house. Finn had to question how successful the detective's search for Kurt was if they were willing to seemingly give him an 'Access All Areas' pass. Did they consider his relationship with Sebastian their best shot at gaining a lead?

The Smythe house – which, in fact, was more of a manor - had been boarded up since active investigation ended a few years ago. According to the cop showing him around, nothing had been disturbed since the horror took place. Blood still stained the floorboards and furniture lay scattered in their path. Finn had been told if it was all too much for him they could leave, but the teen merely shook his head. His stomach had grown strong and the crime scene was not as gory as he had expected. The cop was unnerved by his response.

Back at police headquarters, Finn had been lead into a back room where a cardboard box awaited. _Please put on the gloves provided to prevent contamination._ He had complied with their requests exactly and at long last he was given the all clear to sift through the box's contents. And...nothing. After several minutes of carefully pulling out articles of clothing, a knife with a scarlet blade, a capsule containing eight tablets, burned rope, an empty bottle of champagne – all objects from the same room Hunter Clarington's body was found in – yet none of them held any real significance. That was until he spotted something shining from the base of the box. _'Sorry to ask but is there a cup of water I can have? There's so much dust in this stuff, my throat feels dry.'_ The officer who was supervising the evidence handling had given a curt nod after Finn defeatedly stepped away from the table. She left the room for a total of four seconds, returning with full plastic cup of water from the dispenser just outside the door. But four seconds were all Finn had needed. After downing his drink, Finn gave a sigh of regret for wasting police time and thanked those in the department for accommodating him. He didn't dare examine the piece of stolen evidence that had been slyly stowed in his back pocket until he was a few thousand feet in the air on his flight home. He wasn't sure why he had felt such a surge of confidence at having it in his possession but only Sebastian himself could confirm or destroy the trust in his instincts.

'Mr Hudson,' Dr Peters' eyes widened in surprise at seeing him in the hallway leading to Sebastian's room, 'we didn't see you yesterday. Did something come up?'

'Sort of.' Finn hesitated and lowered his voice. 'How is he?'

'Health-wise, just as expected. Though he was in a rage when he realised you weren't coming to see him.' For some reason, Finn felt guilt. But now was not the time to be shrinking back. He asked to see him.

A tray had been left at the foot of Sebastian's bed, the food on it cut up but uneaten. For a split second upon entering the room Finn feared he was too late – Sebastian appeared lifeless. However, at the sound of Dr Peters shutting the door to leave the two young men alone, he slowly turned his head and then gave a small gasp as his sunken gaze fell on the teen. Though still deathly pale with dark circles around his green, glassy eyes, life fueled by anger rose up like a vicious fire. 'Where the fuck have you been?!' He half-snarled, half-yelled. Calmly, Finn walked forward and pulled up a seat next to the bed. Sebastian's wrist and ankle cuffs scraped along the bar as he instinctively attempted to attack the boy who had abandoned him for a full day. 'Why weren't you here yesterday, asshole? Did you forget about me or something?'

'You know I didn't,' Finn responded in an even tone. According to Peters, Sebastian had been distraught at having to suffer through the day before alone. He had even demanded one of the nurses call his home to find out if he was alright, unable to fathom any good reason for Finn to be absent. The anger, Finn could tell, was built on fear and pain, so it was possible he could just ride it out once Sebastian's emotions steadied on his relief at seeing his visitor today. 'Something very important came up and I had to travel away for the day.'

Sebastian spluttered, incredulous, before going back to his bitter rebuking. 'Something more important than finding your brother? For all you know, yesterday was the day I was going to tell you what you wanted to know-!'

'The chances of that being true are tiny, though it would be just my luck.' Finn tried to settle the dust himself by injecting some humour into his voice. 'And nothing is more important than finding Kurt but I think it was worth the risk. I was hoping you could tell me if I'm right.' And with that, Finn reached into his coat pocket and pulled out his find.

'Of course you're not right, you meat-headed-' Sebastian was still spitting venom up until the moment Finn presented the object right in front of him. At once, the killer was silenced. His eyes grew as wide as saucers and his mouth fell open in fear. Hanging from Finn's fingers was a necklace – a dog collar type typically worn by army soldiers in those action movies – and on the metal tab was an inscription: _Hunter James Clarington_. 'I...' Words caught in his throat and he noticeably gulped hard. 'Where did you find...?'

'One of the many trinkets living inside an evidence box in Westerville. The town you grew up in.' Finn replied firmly. Sebastian may had indicated surprise at Finn knowing where he was from but the chain gently swinging side to side right in front of him was petrifying him down to the bone. 'Who is Hunter Clarington?'

'Get it away.' Sebastian demanded suddenly, leaning back as far as he could into his mattress and turning his head to the side. 'Get rid of it. I don't want to see it.'

His reaction was intriguing and very unexpected. Looking like he may throw up, the murderer was shaken and his hands began to quiver. Finn held the necklace up closer. 'I thought you'd appreciate this blast from the past. According to the police report, schoolmates at Dalton Academy were under the impression you and this Hunter guy were dating right before he died and you disappeared. He was found in the fireplace of the home you grew up in.'

'I don't care about it,' Sebastian rushed out, fooling no one. He glared up at Finn and took a few moments to try steeling his resolve but he only succeeded in looking manic. 'Get it the fuck away from me.'

Pretending not to hear, the teen pressed further. 'When I was going through the report, reading about the text message you sent him asking him to come over in the middle of the night, I just couldn't help but wonder how anyone could kill someone who trusted them like that.' Finn feigned confusion, as if such an act would be out of character for someone like Sebastian. In reality, it didn't surprise him at all.

'I didn't kill him!' Sebastian was now heaving in deep, uneven breaths. His sincere insistence caught Finn off-guard. It sounded like a plead for him to believe it was true. Realising he accidentally let something slip, Sebastian tossed his head away and cried out furiously. 'I don't care about it! Just get that fucking thing away. He was an idiot. A moron. Put it away and move onto a more interesting topic.' Knowing fine well an avoidance tactic when he saw it, Finn knew he had to press on. The crack he had been searching for was finally opening wide right in Sebastian's fearful eyes. Swishing it back and forth was only getting him so far. He had to take another risk. 'Wait- what are you-? _Stop!_' Sebastian yelled out in shock when the chain was shoved around his head and the tag fell against his chest. His eyes bulged and – alarmingly – began to water. His hands strained against the cuffs as he desperately tried to jerk it off. The tag didn't shift. 'Get it _off _me you fucking asshole!'

He's panicking, Finn realised. 'Why?' He asked sternly. 'It's just a chain. It's not like it's burning you or anything.'

However, from the pain in the dying man's face the chain might as well be burning right into his skin. His eyes were positively brimming with sudden tears. His chest was heaving up and down. 'Please, _please-!_' he was now begging, 'Take it off – I can't have it on me-'

'But _why_, Sebastian?' Finn wasn't sure if he was being too cruel but for something so simple to cause such a reaction there was obviously something worth hiding. 'Surely it's a token of the amazing point in your life when Blaine entered the picture and brought you into the murder game you dedicated your life to. You should be wearing it like a trophy.'

'Fuck - you!' Sebastian was between screaming and crying. The tears were splashing down his thin face soaking his skin and he seemed moments from passing out from hyperventilating. 'You don't know anything! You know _shit_! Get it off of me!'

'I'll take it off.' Finn said with measured patience, though he hated seeing such torment and internally wanted to stop Sebastian's suffering. 'But if I do I want the truth. I want the truth about Hunter. Your parents. Blaine. I want to know the truth about what happened.'

By now, all anger had bled from the pale young man. Looking trapped, scared and with a striking similarity to a small child reeling from a terrifying nightmare, he nodded. 'Okay, 'kay, please just take it off... I can't- Please take it off me. I don't deserve-'

As Finn peeled the dog tag from the shivering frame, he recognised something truly mezmerising: for the first time since meeting him, Finn could see humanity in those helpless green eyes. 

* * *

Fingers twisted through Kurt's brown locks, tugging sharply as each new wave of ecstasy hit Blaine's nether regions. Kurt didn't let up on his sucking even when some of the tugs made him yelp in pain. Of course, it also didn't help having the handbrake poking into his side, but that was unavoidable in this position...

'Mmm, Kurt...' Blaine was moaning, head back and eyes closed to be completely lost to the touch of Kurt's energetic tongue lapping up his length and his smooth lips going to town on the tip. 'Such a fast learner you are,' a breathless chuckle, 'you know how to make me feel s-so good...'

_You make me practice often enough,_ Kurt couldn't stop himself from thinking , before instantly feeling nervous in case Blaine was able to read his mind. However Blaine was too engrossed in his approaching climax to utilise his mind-reading skills and Kurt just tried to focus on doing the best job possible. His wet hand sliding up and down the shaft kept close to his lips, his wrists were twisting back and forward for more friction. Blaine instantly responded by thrusting his hips. Kurt squeezed his eyes shut and tried not to gag as both his mouth and throat were filled and his air passage was temporarily cut off. The unmistakable taste of smearing precum met his tongue. He took the opportunity to bring his head up for some easy long licks across the tip. Blaine watched him through half-lidded eyes, panting lightly. He groaned following the flicks and curves of the tongue. 'Ah..._shit_, Kurt – I'm gonna come...'

Kurt didn't need to show his understanding verbally; he shuffled further over to the driver's seat and practically dived head-first into Blaine's crotch. He took the cock completely in his mouth and his fist pumped frantically beneath it. Just as he felt Blaine's body tense, he tilted his head ever so slightly and looked up at the older man's face through his lashes. _I want you to look at me as I come, Kurt. It's the biggest turn on, don't forget it next time. _Well, this time Kurt remembered. And he was rewarded with a loud cry and a mouthful of Blaine's release. Those hands found his hair again and they manhandled his head to meet Blaine's own jerks. A long, shaky moan followed and brought the spontaneous show to a close.

Blaine seemed to melt as Kurt timidly pulled back into his passenger's seat. In silence, he took a few tissues from the nearby dispenser and wiped himself then Blaine's softening cock. The dark haired male let him do so with a lazy stroke of the hair to show appreciation.

The car clock told them it was almost nine; the night sky still had blueish hues but the stars could be seen thanks to the lack of streetlights in the alleyway. Honestly, when Blaine had suddenly swerved off the main road and driven them into the lonely alley Kurt had initially thought they were picking up a homeless person or something – _not_ to have an impromptu encounter of the sexual kind. He could be forgiven for not expecting it as only half an hour earlier, after getting into the car, Blaine had decided to fuck him against the steering wheel whilst still being parked in the driveway. That day alone, they had sex seven times. Kurt was truly exhausted. _In bed, in the shower, on the breakfast counter, on the living room rug, in the shower again, on the stairs and then in the car – this was excessive even for Blaine..._ Kurt knew something was definitely up and it worried him that when questioned about it, Blaine laughed and shrugged him off. After staying in the same place for well over a month, they were leaving for a new place in the morning. Between sex sessions, Blaine had him pack what little belongings they had. When asked why they couldn't just do it in the morning, as they normally did, Blaine replied that he didn't want anything trivial like packing to do in the morning. Kurt had paused at hearing that reason. Kurt was the one who packed. Was Blaine implying that for some reason he doubted Kurt would be able to do it by the next day? What was he planning?

'Are we heading back soon?' Kurt asked, knowing very well the answer was no.

Blaine stretched and turned on the cool air. 'Depends how well you do with the kill.'

Turning away to the window, Kurt bit back a concerned frown. The past month had been spent killing, on average, a person a day. Blaine would do the horrific _tardus mortem_ or 'slow death' stabbings and Kurt would put the poor man or woman out of their agonising misery. Each time a victim caught his eye, he would silently issue an apology through his gaze and implore them to understand his gunshot was a kind alternative to the hour-long suffering they would endure thanks to Blaine's fatal blows. Each time, he would lie to himself saying that they must have understood. Why else would a good boy like him harm anyone? The victims knew he was good; that's why they always appealed to him. He was just always sorry there was nothing he could do but pull the trigger and send them on their way.

So what did Blaine mean when he said it depended on how well Kurt did with that night's kill?

_There's always a next step, idiot. Stop pretending this is the worst it'll get – it's _never_ going to be true. _

Palms sweating, Kurt sat quietly as Blaine pulled their car up a dirt track towards a lonely Georgian house surrounded by the silhouettes of thick, dense trees. Having chosen a place of solitude away from the nearby town, Blaine clearly wanted to take his time here. Suddenly, Kurt felt very, very sick. 'Blaine,' He gulped, 'Y-you remember our deal about kids, right? I-I can't-'

'There're no kids here,' Blaine cut in, a vague smile on his face. 'Just one guy. Divorced, no kids. The last anyone seen him was probably when he bought about a dozen TV dinners and a crate of beer. He seems to like being left alone.'

But Kurt was already feeling relieved. So relieved that when Blaine parked behind the house and instructed Kurt to wait five minutes before following him inside, he nodded without questioning it. Keeping his eyes on the dashboard clock, he waited. Blaine had shimmied open a downstairs window to enter but he figured by the time Kurt was to follow the front door would be unlocked. It was.

'Blaine?' Kurt called out as he stepped into the large hallway.

'In here, babe,' The voice came from the rear of the house, in a living room just passed a dining room and small library nook. As he entered, Kurt braced himself. Blaine slipped behind him to close the door with a noisy click, but Kurt was too nervous and self-conscious due to the sole resident of the stunning house. The man lay on his back in the middle of the room: standard positioning by Blaine. His hands and feet were tied together by cable and his mouth was gagged and taped over. All he could do was scream muffled obscenities and blink furiously in the boy's direction. The man was large and muscular, probably in his forties or fifties. There was no sign of injury – not even a slightly bloodied nose – so how Blaine had managed to subdue him was a mystery. Speaking of Blaine... Kurt turned his head to see Blaine perched on the window sill, hands flat on the paneling so he could lean back.

Kurt looked at the able man lying on the floor who writhed uselessly. Bound, but not harmed. It begged the question: why did he have Kurt wait outside if all he was going to do was bind his next victim? 'C-can I ask what is so different about tonight?' Kurt asked bravely.

Blaine stood up from the window and strolled over to him. 'I'd have thought it was obvious.'

'The next step up?' Kurt echoed the words Blaine said so often.

'The next step up.' Blaine confirmed with a smile, then pressed a large butchers knife flat against Kurt's chest. 'Kill him.'

A few seconds of silence passed between them, with Blaine's unflinching eyes gazing deep into Kurt's big, confused ones. 'I...what?' The teenager couldn't quite understand the request.

Blaine's face was now expressionless; no threat, no warmth, nothing. 'You heard me,' he spoke softly. 'Kill him.'

Realising that Blaine meant exactly what he said, Kurt stole another anxious glance towards the bound man. 'But...you haven't...done anything.'

'That doesn't matter,' Blaine coolly replied. 'I want him dead, Kurt. And I want _you_ to do the honours.'

So that was Blaine's 'next step': making Kurt do a kill all on his own. No more 'mercy kills'. No more excuses. The trouble was...Kurt couldn't. 'I-I can't do that!' He stuttered out in terror. Blaine's eyes hardened, but Kurt kept shaking his head. 'Blaine, you know I can't. I'm not like you, I c-can't just... You always- B-but I can't-'

Blaine's jaw clenched and his tongue briefly snuck out to wet his lips. 'You can. And you will.'

By now Kurt was looking down at the knife in his hands as though is was a bomb. 'No way! A-and not with this! You made me use a gun before and you _know_ I can't- I can't, not with a knife. I can't watch you do it, what makes you think I can do it myse-'

_Slap!_

The man stretched out on the floor stopped wriggling for a moment to stare in shock as the smaller of the two men – the one who had been panicking – was smacked down. Kurt held his cheek with a shaky hand but couldn't quite acknowledge the pain. The fear was too strong. 'Honey, you need to stop over-thinking this,' Blaine uttered calmly, as if he was being reasonable and _not_ dealing out blows to the man he loved. He bent down and helped Kurt onto his knees, returning the fallen knife to his quivering hands. 'If you had just followed my order the second I gave it, we could be walking out the door right now. The longer you draw it out, the bigger of a deal you make it. Just one quick thrust into his heart and we can leave.'

Kurt wasn't sure why his feet were scrambling, or why Blaine didn't immediately grab him when he ran for the hallway, but it became clear when he reached the doorway. Kurt grabbed the knob but it wouldn't budge. He yanked again but something was holding it shut. His anxious eyes drifted upwards until they met with a shiny latch lock with an even shinier padlock in place over it. _Blaine locked it after I came in..._ He turned to the door at the other side of the room; it had the same locks on it. They were new; fresh sawdust was still visible on the sideboards. _That's why he came in advance...to make sure I could be locked in._ Feeling both faint and nauseated, Kurt ran to the window knowing full-well Blaine would have taken care of those too. But before he could even check, hands grabbed his shirt and hurled him around and onto the floor. The bound man grunted as Kurt fell at his side.

'You're setting us back _weeks_, Kurt,' Blaine was snapping behind him, 'You know I'll keep us here until you do it. This guy is a recluse, no one will come looking for him. We can be here for months if that's what it takes but I'd really-' He grabbed Kurt's hand up and forced the knife handle back into his sweaty palms, '_really_ prefer if you just. Did. It. Now.'

'I-I can't stab, Blaine,' Kurt was beginning to sob now that he was kneeling above the man, who's bulging eyes and red face made him too look ready to burst. 'You always start it! Y-you start, I finish-'

'Not tonight.' Blaine cut in, rounding them and kneeling down on the other side to face him. 'Tonight, you show me that you've been learning. I taught you the hooker slit, remember? One thin slice across the jugular and it's over. You also know where his heart is. Stab it. Once will do. It's so easy, Kurt, stop stalling-!'

'Stop shouting at me!' Kurt cried out, trying to push Blaine away, 'I can't kill someone like this! I'm not like you, and I won't do it. Please, stop doing this to me...'

'Kill him, Kurt,' Blaine snarled in warning.

'No...'

'Kill. Him. Now.'

'I can't-!'

A fist met Kurt's head and the boy fell back on the ground. The room spun. The vague shape of Blaine climbing over to straddle him caused his legs to scramble but he went nowhere. Blaine grabbed a handful of the front of his shirt and lay another punch into him. 'Stop – pretending.' the man demanded. He tossed Kurt back against the floor and issued many more unrelenting slaps across the face. Kurt raised his arms in defense but he was too dazed to put up much of a fight. Suddenly, through his tears, he could see Blaine's impatient glare inches from his face. 'No one is going anywhere until you do it, Kurt.'

'P-please,' Kurt sobbed, pathetically grasping at Blaine's fingers to plead, 'please...you do it.'

Blaine was trying to regain composure and he was taking many steadying breaths before he yanked them both up and back into position – Kurt on one side of the man and Blaine on the other. 'Kill him.' He said in a low voice.

Kurt found the knife once again pressed into his hands. 'No, I-'

_Smack._ 'Kill him!'

'Blaine, n-'

_Smack._ '_Kill him!_'

Blaine was already raising his hand to deliver more pain, and Kurt panicked. He squeezed his eyes shut, tightened his hold on the handle and pushed it downwards. _'Stop shouting at me!'_ The knife plunged into flesh.

Then again. And again. And again.

Kurt couldn't stop himself, his whole body was shaking so back, and he couldn't hear anything so he just kept stabbing. For all he knew, it was his own legs he was attacking or Blaine himself but right now all he wanted was to fight away the shouting. The screaming. _Make it stop!_ And the more he brought the knife down, the quieter it got. It was silent, except his own yelling and strained gasps. His head was bursting and through his clenched eyelids came a world of hurt that would only be relieved if he opened his eyes.

It could have only been a few seconds or perhaps several minutes, but by the time Kurt eventually dropped the knife onto the ground – _Clang!_ \- the earth seemed to be spinning out of control and he lost balance, falling off to the side. He opened his eyes. He must have been squeezing them too hard before because now his vision was overtaken in red hues. A few blinks later, he realised they were not red hues; the room was a bloodbath. The man bound and gagged on the floor was gone, and in his place a mountain of sliced flesh and some scraps of tape. Kurt struggled to push himself up to sit on the floor as his hands kept slipping. His dizzied gaze ran all around him. _Where did the man go?_

'Kurt...'

He looked over at Blaine. His kidnapper was drenched in red, looking around stunned. He held up his hand which was shimmering in scarlet from where the blood had splattered onto him. His eyes met Kurt's and a childlike smile broached his lips. 'Babe...look what you did.'

The sound of a click inside Kurt's head brought reality back to the scene and Kurt understood that this time the carnage was not Blaine's doing. It was his.

'I-I didn't-' Blaine was too amazed to respond. Kurt slid himself back and shook his head as he repeated his denial. 'I didn't – I didn't – I didn't!' Then, with a horrific realisation, a scream tore from Kurt's throat.

Blaine snapped out of his glorious floundering and dove across the what remained of the body to wraps his arms around the boy who was trying to claw his own eyes out. He hushed him as he pulled the hands out of harm's way, letting the teen thrash around against his chest. Kurt was screaming his lungs out, his body convulsing and his nails swiping at everything in their reach. Blaine's murmurs of comfort fell on deaf nears and the smile just would not shift from his face.

_At last, we hit the sweet spot. Breaking point at last. Now for the re-building._

* * *

A.N. Thank you for reading, guys! Please leave a pleasent/ constructive review before you go :D


	8. The New and Improved Kurt Hummel

A.N. Just going to completely avoid acknowledging the 14 month hiatus for this story and hope no one notices...

**Usual Warning List:** Bad language, sexual scenes, violence, distressing scenes - basically, if you've read this far then we should be good. :)

**THIS STORY IS NOT ABANDONED - LIFE SOMETIMES TAKES OVER**

* * *

The New and Improved Kurt Hummel

* * *

It didn't really hurt anymore. Surprising, really, considering how extensive the doctor had said the damage had become. The infection had spread further in the last few months, dragging Sebastian through an array of pain levels from excruciating agony to _'Hurts like a motherf-!'_

Still, the pretty nurse's delivery of painkillers continued to run like clockwork every four hours. Sebastian didn't even try to ogle him anymore and the boy's fear of him was diminishing with every visit.

_You're losing your touch; he used to be too scared to come in on his own._

Sebastian himself was partially to blame for the changes in attitude, but the real man at fault was Finn. Since causing a _slight_ meltdown months prior, Finn had been breaking down walls during each annoyingly more amicable daily visit. At first, Sebastian had been resistant but then that grew too tiring. For the first time, he told the story of what happened the night Hunter Clarington died. In thanks for his honesty, Finn had shared details of the dead teen's burial and resting place, going as far as to sneak in a photograph of Hunter's last school picture from Dalton for Sebastian to have by his bedside. Of course, he didn't sleep much after Finn set it up: he spent many hours ignorant to the pain in his body just staring at the charming smile on that handsome face. Most of those hours were spent sobbing and blubbering out words of apology as if they could be heard.

_This is so stupid. He's dead; he can't hear you. You had the time of your life doing whatever you pleased for years after he was killed – why do I feel like this now?_

'You're grieving, dude,' Finn sighed, wincing as he did so. Before this topic of conversation began, he had been reading out crossword puzzle clues from a newspaper (an odd request Sebastian was now in the habit of making these days). He folded the paper over for the time being. 'That's what happens when you lose someone. Blaine didn't let you do it when he was around, so you're going through it now.'

Sebastian knew he was right, but had not lost enough of his personality or attitude enough to vocally agree. 'When you first brought in his picture,' he began, head resting on his pillow and his eyes still firmly fixed on the photo frame, 'I didn't think I'd be able to cope. I thought I'd have flashbacks more often. But now...' He paused to bite his lip, his grey-white face scrunching up in vague confusion. 'I don't know how I survived without him watching me.'

'Watching over you, you mean,' Finn quipped in.

Sebastian made a short sound, neither clearly confirming or denying. 'For years when I heard of people wanting to go visit the graves of family or friends, I thought 'Why? No one is there. It's just a name on a bit of stone and a muddy patch of ground. A hollow reminder of pain. The person you're looking for isn't there and it's stupid to think they are'. But now I kinda get it. I want to visit the gravestone. I want to touch his name and talk to him like I do his picture.' It didn't take a genius to guess why Finn kept quiet: they both knew Sebastian would never see that grave. Hell, it was unlikely he would see outside the prison hospital again, never mind the likes of Ohio again.

Sebastian hadn't quite realised that he had been floating around in bitter clouds for so long. That was the trouble with all this 'dying shit', as he now callously called it: as more time passed he became weaker and weaker but painstakingly more grounded and aware. In addition to confronting his long-buried agony over Hunter, he also had to face the fact that Finn had somehow gained a smidgen of his trust when he began guiding him by the hand through the hurt. Sebastian still planned to tell Finn what he wanted to know – the whereabouts of Blaine and Kurt on one specific calendar date – but it would be a lie to say he hadn't almost let it slip out early when he felt a surge of compassion. He would pretend it was because Finn might stop coming to see him once he knew, but secretly he knew it to be wrong. The real reason was that if Finn knew too early, he might just destroy his own chances of saving Kurt and for some crazy reason Sebastian hoped he might actually be successful. Perhaps Finn had gained more than just his trust.

'You haven't really told me about your own future,' Sebastian commented, wanting to change the subject, 'Whole life ahead of you – what's your plans?'

'I have told you,' Finn disagreed, holding out the dying man's drink for him to sip through the straw. 'Finding Kurt is my only goal, it'll always be my future until he's safe.'

After taking a grateful drink, Sebastian made dismissal motions with his cuffed hands. 'Okay, okay, sure but what if you found Kurt, would you go to college?'

Finn pondered on it and then shrugged. 'Yeah, most likely. I had a really cool teacher at McKinley so I've thought about being a teacher if I can't play football anymore. People change as they grow so maybe one day I'll be a sports writer, or a mechanic, or – I don't know – an award-winning chef like you see on the TV. I'd like to be paid to eat.'

He laughed at the thought but stopped soon after realising that at some point tears had formed in Sebastian's eyes. Staring up at the ceiling, silently weeping, Sebastian thought about his own life choices. 'I wish I had gone to college,' He confessed quietly. 'I was smart. I could have done anything if Blaine... I mean, what if he hadn't chosen our house that night? I would have graduated college and had a few years of climbing the corporate ladder under my belt. I would still be with Hunter, I know it. We might have got married. Maybe not. Hunter wanted kids too. Maybe we'd be googling how to adopt. God knows they would have had to give us a kid who already had a name because we could never agree on what we'd call our future dog when we talked about getting a place together.'

Once again, Finn just stayed quiet and listened. His head was bowed slightly, a sad frown on his face.

'Shit, Finn,' Sebastian laughed as he cried, at last looking over at his visitor with wide eyes. 'I'm scared. I-I'm scared my body is failing. I'm scared of dying. No...I'm not scared of dying, I'm scared about what's going to happen after I die. I keep telling myself the sooner death comes, the sooner I can be with him again.'

Finn gave his best attempt at a smile. 'I think that about my mom. I don't know what happens after we die, but I picture her just waiting for me on the other side. Smiling. Telling me everything is okay-'

'But what if he doesn't want to wait for me, Finn?' Sebastian's voice broke, his face now thoroughly wet and in anguish. 'What if he isn't there?'

* * *

_Ding – dong!_

'Smile, baby, just like we practiced.'

Kurt immediately did as he was told. The smile to which Blaine was referring was the 'Lost Toddler' smile – one which Blaine struggled to pull off convincingly but Kurt had the advantage of looking like a small worried child naturally. _Big eyes, nervous and mere moments away from breaking out into tears – that will melt anyone's heart. No one will turn us away with those baby blues of yours._

Well, that was about to be tested.

The front door of house number 1109 opened and a warm swirl of air met Kurt's cheeks. The house smelled of sandalwood mixed with roast beef. Clearly it was dinner time at this particular household. The man greeting them at the door looked between the two young strangers in front of him with suspicious concern. 'May I help you?'

'Hi, sir, gosh I am so sorry we bothered you. Are you eating? Gee, I really am sorry.' Blaine's torn face matched his regretful words. 'Our car broke down.' He motioned behind them to the car they rented just a town over. 'We thought we would make it home and call a mechanic before church tomorrow but it gave out. We were hoping to use your phone to call my breakdown company.'

'Joe, who is it?' Called a woman from inside. A few seconds later, the lady in question appeared by her husband wearing an apron and immediately cast a sympathetic look towards Kurt.

'I'm so sorry to bother you, ma'am,' Blaine winced, his typical strong tone now meek and full of despair. 'We broke down and we're just looking for a phone. Gosh, I hate that we interrupted their dinner,'

Kurt took that as his cue to nod and issue an apology of his own. 'I feel awful. We would have walked to the nearest pay phone but we don't know the area and its so cold tonight.'

Looking put out, the man huffed 'Yes, it is very cold,' His words were a clear accusation that his warm house was now losing heat thanks to Blaine and Kurt, 'Just wait a minute, I'll get you our phone.' He began to shut the door over

'Joe!' His wife snapped, embarrassed. She then hissed at her husband in a quick and hushed frenzy behind the door as if that would in some way stop her being overheard. 'A real Christian does not leave those in need outside in the cold. Invite them in. That boy looks ready to collapse.'

Blaine nudged Kurt in a wordless 'well done', but otherwise remained fixated on looking guilt-ridden and distressed. When the red-faced husband opened the door again, he grumbled for them to come inside. Kurt followed in after Blaine and got ready to take direction, as he had been doing flawlessly for the last few weeks.

It had only been a matter of months since Kurt had killed that man on his own, but it seemed like a lifetime ago now. The feeling of self-hate, nausea and unending inner torment was a memory he thought of a lot but could not quite make himself experience it again. Blaine told him not to, so he didn't. It was simple, really. Once Blaine's voice became louder than his own inside his head, orders were fairly easy to follow. He hardly ever heard his own thoughts anymore, and even then he felt the need to check with Blaine that they were right.

For the first few moments of standing in the hallway, Kurt watched Blaine's right hand like a hawk. It took a little while longer than usual but at last Blaine gave his orders by pointing three fingers downwards. It was so casual looking and only lasted half a second but Kurt saw it and knew what Blaine wanted him to do after his brief consideration of the inside of the house. _Three. That means I'm on isolation duty. Cut off outside world. Wait for his cue._

'I can't thank you enough,' Blaine was gushing, 'But I still feel awful. That delicious smell in the air – you were having dinner.'

'No, dinner is still a few minutes off. I've still to call down my daughter.' The woman waved off his concerns and returned her attention to Kurt. ' Honey, you look freezing. Are you feeling alright?'

'No, ma'am,' Kurt answered honestly. Blaine caught his eye and quickly tilted his head in the direction of the stairway. Knowing what he had to do, Kurt swallowed. 'May-May I use your bathroom?'

The husband looked irate at the request but the lady nodded and kindly motioned to the door halfway down the hall. Kurt thanked her and was just closing the bathroom door behind him when Blaine was being handed a landline telephone. He closed the door as softly as he could. _A slight squeak with the turning of the knob but otherwise no noise. _Back in the hall, Blaine was making a show of calling up some breakdown service on the telephone and was using his expert acting skills to seamlessly wander into the nearby living room. The footsteps of both the man and woman exiting the hall after him was heard even from behind the door. When Blaine's fake phone call voice grew fainter, Kurt knew it was now safe to come back out and get to work.

Stealthfully, he crossed the hallway and locked the front door, taking the key with him. He then tip-toed to the rear of the house and did the same with the back door. He took a moment to examine the windows: none were big enough for an adult to squeeze through, even if their life depended on it. With perhaps only a minute's grace period, Kurt located the power box inside the pantry and snipped every wire with the pliers he had hidden in his jacket's inner pocket. For final measure, he took out the little device Blaine liked to call the 'Blackout Box' – an appropriate name for the little piece of machinery which would interfere with all electronic signals and effectively render any technical lifelines completely useless. Kurt activated it inside the pantry and took a moment to brace himself for what was soon to come before entering the living room.

'Feeling any better, honey?' the wife asked, motioning for him to come sit down on the couch beside her. Kurt did not pick up on the fact that the last time women displayed such motherly concern for him had been Carole and Aunt Jenny. No, he did not think that at all. The Blaine inside his head shot that idea straight in the heart. That's why it hurt so much.

'Yes, thank you,' Kurt said politely. He looked to Blaine as he finished up with his fake phone call.

'They said they'll send someone right away but it'll be another twenty minutes at least.' Blaine announced, setting the phone down behind him so that neither homeowner would notice that the screen was not only blank but also void of power. His eyes met Kurt's and then teen scratched his ear. _It's done. Isolation duty is finished._ Blaine smiled. 'Thank you again for your help, but let us get out of your way. We can wait in the car.'

Once again, the husband looked ready to be rid of his unwanted guests but his wife would hear nothing of the kind. 'Don't be silly, it's cold out there and it's warm in here. Come eat with us, we have plenty of f-'

'_Mom!'_ Shouted an angry voice from upstairs. _'The wifi isn't working – fix it! I was video chatting!'_

The woman pursed her lips in anger. 'Sorry, that's my ungrateful daughter. We lost her and her humanity the moment she discovered social media.' With that, she stood up and left for the hallway. 'It'll fix itself. Besides, dinner is ready so come downstairs. And don't you dare bring your cell phone – the cyber world will cope without you.'

Blaine laughed as though it were all a situation comedy. The husband gave a strained smile and reluctantly guided his unwanted guests through to the kitchen table. 'So,' he began gruffly, 'where were you coming back from? You didn't say.'

Kurt knew to let Blaine handle this. He handled most things as Kurt was still learning. 'Didn't I? Well, we were on our way back from a choir rehearsal our pastor organised. Out in the middle of nowhere but beautiful. It's just a shame we got lost.'

The woman entered the room carrying trays of food. 'Choir?' She repeated, her eyes shining in excitement. 'Are you both singers?'

Kurt felt his left eye twitch as a brief flash of a memory took him by surprise. Had he dwelt on the image he might have remembered the McKinley choir room but he didn't. 'Yes, ma'am. Tenor and countertenor.'

'We're performing next week in Jackson.' Blaine added, politely whipping a napkin over his lap. Kurt followed his example, albeit more clumsily. 'If you were free, I'm sure we could get you front row seats. It's the least we could do considering your hospitality.'

His lies were as smooth as silk and the lady of the house practically swooned at the idea. 'Oh, that sounds wonderful, doesn't it Joe?' Her husband didn't even pretend to find the prospect of a choir performance appealing. 'Perhaps if your car takes a while to be fixed or towed, you might have time to give us a preview.'

Blaine and the woman laughed merrily and traded other mindless pleasantries. Kurt took the opportunity to steel his nerves and focus on the week's lessons: frightened animals lash out so be prepared for wild swings. Judging the couple's physiques, there was little to be concerned about but Kurt had been overwhelmed by similar 'non-threats' before, calling for Blaine to stop what he was doing to help. Kurt knew better than to inconvenience Blaine like that again.

'What is taking that daughter of mine so long?' The woman suddenly asked. She stood and walked to the doorway to call upstairs. 'Carmen, come down now - the food is getting cold!' Within seconds, Kurt could hear the sound of trudging footsteps from above move to the stairway. A typical teenager, the girl dragged her feet and stomped unnecessarily. Her mood was no doubt unaided by Kurt's killing of her wifi and connectivity. When she stepped into the kitchen, her sour face confirmed Kurt's presumption. 'Carmen, these young men have run into some car trouble. Isn't that awful? They're joining us for dinner, though, and we may be able to convince them to sing a song or two!' The wife turned to Blaine, 'I keep telling her to join our church's choir but she calls it 'uncool' – can you believe that?'

But Blaine nor Kurt paid their generous host any attention – something had just changed. The girl had frozen in place by the door, her eyes wide and her expression perplexed. She stared at Kurt as if he were a puzzle she had to solve. Kurt's apprehensive gaze flickered to Blaine. His 'mentor' had noticed but displayed nothing but calmness. Silently, he slipped the napkin from his lap and folded it neatly before placing it back on the table. _We would not be breaking bread with this family tonight after all. The main event had been moved up._ With the girl's eyes growing more concerned and her body beginning to turn away – _body language, Kurt: it tells us more than words ever could_ – the serial killer-in-training understood what he was seeing in her eyes was recognition.

'You...' The girl pointed an accusing finger at Kurt. 'You're the guy. You're the lost guy.' Her parents looked affronted at their daughter's apparent rudeness. 'The boy from Ohio everyone's looking for.'

Kurt's cheeks grew pink. At least she did not look scared. She didn't understand what was happening. Until she looked at Blaine. Immediately, her mouth formed a horrified 'O' shape and she grabbed at her mother's wrist in an attempt to pull her back. 'For goodness sake, Carmen – what are you talking about?' Her mother demanded, torn between anger and confusion.

'Please, let me explain,' Blaine winced in apology as he stood up. He motioned to the girl. 'I'm afraid your daughter is familiar with my friend here.'

'You're the killer!' The teen cried and hurled her accusing finger towards him. 'Mom! C-call the police-!'

'What the hell is going on here?!' Now the father was rising from his chair.

A nod. That's all. One nod from Blaine – a barely noticeable tip of the head – and Kurt had his order. It was a shame the table was set already. In one rapid motion, Kurt's fingers gripped the knife handle by his empty plate and powered it into the father's throat. His eyes remained on Blaine for approval but he knew he had struck well when the hot blood sprayed onto his entire arm.

A strangled scream of horror erupted from the gracious woman as she watched her husband stumble backwards over his chair, the knife still lodged straight through his neck and the tip protruding out the other side.

'Good boy.' Blaine uttered, petting his lover's clean hand. He then slid out his chair and caught the lady as her legs gave way. 'Hey, there - watch you don't break an ankle, ma'am.' The woman was unable to move or make a sound, but her daughter bounded on Blaine's back screaming her throat raw. Kurt remained in his seat and slowly looked down at his hands – one white and cold, the other crimson and hot. A casual back-swing from Blaine sent Carmen crashing into the kitchen counter. 'Kurt, I'll take momma bear. You want to take the girl?'

Blaine's thoughtful tone may have made his words sound like a suggestion but Kurt had not yet earned the right to have options. He knew his task was to kill the teenage daughter. He figured that since he had begun bold with a knife to the neck, he would be permitted to resort to the cleaner and more merciful gunshot. He retrieved the handgun from beneath his shirt as the girl made for Blaine again. However, at hearing the exchange and seeing Kurt's new long-ranged weapon, the girl stopped and then made a feverish dash out into the hallway. Awkwardly, Kurt stepped over the gurgling man beside him and had to use the kitchen table for support as he slid on the growing puddle of blood. Blaine began having his fun with the woman as Kurt left the room. The pounding of footsteps above alerted him to the fact the girl was now upstairs, no doubt having tried the locked front door first. Ignoring the memories of being on the other side of the situation, Kurt figured the kid would be looking for an escape route via a window. Once on the upper floor, he listened carefully. Following the sound on panic, he chose the second last door on the right. At first, it seemed jammed: the girl had put something in front of it but in her frenzy it was not fixed well. With a couple of shoulder slams, Kurt tumbled into the bedroom just in time to see the girl's pony tailed hair disappearing beyond the window frame.

Running to the window, Kurt considered climbing out after her but then examined the back garden properly: aside from trying to climb the high fences on either side in hopes of finding a neighbour – unlikely as the girl would no doubt hurt herself dropping from the roof and be unable to hoist herself up that high – her only escape would be from the gate at the far end of the garden. Kurt cocked his gun and waited. As expected, the girl swung from the gutter railing and let out a pained gasp on landing. She then took off as fast as she could hobble to the gate. Kurt took aim.

_Shoot._

Kurt didn't move.

_Shoot now. The smaller the target is, the harder it'll be to ensure the hit._

Kurt's finger seemed to be frozen in place, aching each time he tried to bend it against the trigger. It ached so hard his entire arm was throbbing, hands quivering.

_Kurt, what's wrong with you? Shoot her! You know you don't have a choice!_

The girl reached the gate and threw it open. Her hobbling had improved to a steady run in the final steps, and Kurt realised his best chance was gone. Blaine's face flashed before his eyes, it was like he could feel those hazel eyes on him. He gulped. With a jolt, he pulled the trigger.

The girl screamed and fell face first onto the grassy knoll past the gate. At first, Kurt thought he had got her calf as her legs immediately went rigid-straight and she arched back as if to get as far from the wound as possible. However, her actions caused her to choke and retract. Her sweater now had a hole in it. In uneasy amazement, Kurt marveled at his shot. Now all he had to do was fire once more whilst she was a sitting duck on the ground – and he was already aiming.

But this time not even the piercing fear which normally 'did the trick' could make him move. His hands shook uncontrollably. Perhaps only mere seconds later, the girl was able to see him through her tears and made the intelligent decision to roll out of his view behind the gate. The last he saw of her was the sight of her pony tail barely skimming the tips of the fence as she half-ran, half-dragged herself into the evening darkness.

Kurt continued to aim his gun where she had lay for another minute.

Behind him, Blaine watched from the bedroom doorway.

* * *

'I'm sorry.'

As he indicated left at the intersection, Blaine frowned and furrowed his eyes. 'Sorry? For what?' His voice was absentminded as he concentrated on traffic.

Kurt continued to look down at his clammy clasped hands. 'I'm sorry the girl got away. You're not supposed to let anyone live in the games, and because of me she's probably in the police station right now.'

'Kurt – no,' With his focus now shifting to his driving companion, Blaine shook his head and pulled their car up by the pavement. He shut off the engine, unbuckled his belt and turned to face Kurt properly. 'I'm not mad at you.' Kurt swallowed, not believing his words. Blaine's frown deepened and he tore Kurt's clasped hands apart in order to hold them in his own. 'Baby, look at me.' With some reluctance, the young man complied. He always did nowadays. With a firm stare, Blaine said 'Don't beat yourself up over it. I'm counting tonight as a win, even if the girl got away. We're still in partial training, Kurt; it's okay if one slips off the hook every now and then. You know what I'll remember tonight for?' Kurt bit his lip and shook his head. Blaine smiled. 'The way you swung that knife into that guy's neck. You didn't even _look_, baby! You know how impressive that is? That was a blind one-strike kill!'

To his credit, Blaine did look incredibly pleased. Kurt forced a small smile in return. _No, not forced, Kurt. There's no need to force. You can smile. Go on. Sometimes smiles aren't supposed to feel natural._ 'You...you're sure you aren't disappointed in the girl?'

Blaine waved his hand. 'Tonight was good. It was successful. You impressed me. And we've got some new things to start working on.' Kurt nodded as he spoke but his nodding faltered slightly at the last comment. Blaine put on his 'business face'. 'You kill well, Kurt. But your heart...' He chuckled lightly and leaned over to kiss Kurt's lips. 'Your sweet heart. It still isn't letting you enjoy the _art_ of killing. Think about driving,' Blaine turned to the steering wheel and stretched his arms out to grip it with careful fingers. 'When you're just setting out and getting to grips, driving a car is terrifying. There's no way you can be happy when you keep making mistakes. But then you pass your test. Keys in hand and the open road in front of you… It's so freeing, so exciting. Mistakes don't mean anything because you love the feel of the wheel at your fingertips and the roar of the engine as it does exactly as you command.' His eyes looked back to Kurt and his hands soon found his cheeks. 'Playing the games. Killing. You can do it so well now, baby, but it's all a waste if you don't.' Kiss. 'Learn.' Nip. 'To _savour_ it.' With that, Blaine's lips urged Kurt's open and his tongue swept inside his mouth to taste him.

Kurt wasn't sure if it was the warmth of Blaine's hands or his mouth, but suddenly he felt overheated. He couldn't quite figure out if it was a good or bad thing. A hand was now ghosting up his neck and onto his jaw. It was clear Blaine was a little distracted by the kiss itself as he suddenly jerked firm and broke their lips apart, but he pressed their foreheads together. 'I'm s-still...sorry.' Kurt mumbled.

Blaine laughed silently and closed his eyes. 'I love you, Kurt. Don't ever apologise for making progress.'

A minute later, they were on the highway driving back to their current home. He managed to hold on to contentment for a full twenty seconds before his mind began to wander. It wandered to a theoretical police station across town in which a teenage girl would be half-screaming, half-crying her testimony to alarmed police officers.

* * *

In reality, the teenage girl was actually in a hospital the next town over. It was the closest one to where she had been picked up by the seventh car which had passed her. With blood pouring out of her sweater and her unsteady steps, many had been too afraid to stop. In fact, the elderly couple who had pulled over to check her well-being had not been aware of any injuries until their question 'Miss, do you need a ride?' had resulted in the teen throwing herself at their vehicle wheels.

Horrified and panicked, they had dragged her into the backseat and drove a few miles above the speed limit – something unheard of to the elderly couple before then – until they got to the emergency room. They could answer no questions about what was wrong, and the girl was going in and out of consciousness and was therefore little help herself.

By the time two officers and one detective arrived, the doctors knew her fate. _Minutes. This girl has minutes_.

In her waning state, the girl gave her one and only statement. 'The boy…the one from Ohio. Kidnapped.. Serial killer-'

'The kid from Ohio who was kidnapped by the serial killer? He's still alive?'

The girl's face contorted into one of intense anguish. '_He killed my dad!'_ She screamed. 'When I recognised him…he-he just did it. He's a killer now. Two of them…'

The nurses in the ward took turns sitting with the girl's body once she was gone.

Police officers swarmed the family's home, forewarned by the girl's depiction what scene would greet them. For several hours, they collected evidence, analysing every detail and putting forward their own slant on the events in order to exonerate Kurt Hummel in the crime. There had to be a way of clearing him of any wrongdoing. They had a multitude of police reports up and down the country in which surviving witnesses would claim the Lima teen was forced to harm or even kill by his kidnapper. All reports mentioned the boy pleading for an alternative, being emotionally distraught and being punished in return. However, the story told by tonight's final victim had no such redemption notes. And upon examining the crime scene and receiving early forensic evidence, there was no angle to look at it from other than the terrifying truth: the missing Kurt Hummel was now acting in harmony with his kidnapper. He was a murderer.

Before FBI and other government agents could get to the scene, news had broken out. The media had the 'shocking twist' on every morning paper, news anchor's teleprompter and the lips of thousands within hours.

* * *

'_Bullshit!'_

Sebastian jerked awake and for once the wave of nausea was not the first thing he noticed. The room light was switched on but Sebastian did not see which prison hospital employee was responsible because his attention was on the towering Finn Hudson by his bedside. Alarmed, Sebastian blinked himself fully awake and tried in vain to sit up. The fury and upset on his visitor's face told him something was very wrong.

'This is _bullshit_, Sebastian – What the fuck is going on?!' Finn yelled down at him.

The officer at the door hesitated, clearly unsure of whether he should be removing Finn or offering to take his coat so he could sucker punch Sebastian right in the gut, which Finn looked like he really wanted to do. But he wouldn't. With that knowledge, Sebastian subtly waved a dismissive hand at the man at the door and the door was shut quietly.

Now alone with Finn, Sebastian schooled his surprised expression to one of vague interest. 'What are you talking ab-'

'_This!'_ Finn threw a newspaper onto his lap but Sebastian couldn't make out any words, only the picture of Kurt's face printed on the front page. 'They're saying he's a murderer!'

'You know he killed those people before-' Sebastian grumbled, still finding his voice after being rudely awoken.

'No, they're now saying he's just like Blaine. They're saying he killed a guy. Knife in the throat. No prompting, and he chased after a girl. Shot and killed her. It's not true – why would they print that?' Sebastian sat in silence. '_Why?_ Kurt wouldn't do it unless he was being forced but they're making it out like he's in on the whole thing now. The police are now out to arrest! They're putting him as the villain and he's not-!'

'He is, Finn,' Sebastian broke in, shutting up his visitor with his fury-inspiring words. He steeled his gaze as best he could under his health circumstances. 'I told you this would happen. Blaine wanted him as a killer companion. He broke him and he's built up something that isn't Kurt anymore.' Finn's mouth opened to argue. His fists balled up and his skin became redder and blotchier. 'I'm _sorry_, Finn.' And his honest words took them both by surprise. Sebastian frowned sadly. 'I'm sorry.'

Finn was frozen in place for several seconds, then he fell back into his usual chair. His face now was as white as snow and his body began to shake. 'I…I don't understand.' With anger now transpiring into emotional despair, he looked half his normal size. 'Kurt wouldn't…'

'You're right,' Sebastian nodded grimly. '_Kurt_ wouldn't. Not the Kurt you know. But the Kurt you know isn't there. Blaine's created someone different.'

It had been a long time since Sebastian had seen Finn cry. A very long time. In recent months, it had been Finn watching Sebastian cry as he finally confronted his past with Hunter. Now, as the tables seemed to turn yet again, Sebastian lay in turmoil as the young man he had hated broke down onto the cold dank floor of the prison hospital. Sebastian wished he was free from the handcuffs surrounding his wrists trapping him to the bed frame and for once it was not to escape or cause harm: he wished nothing more than to be able to wrap his arm around the giant's shoulders and comfort him.

_I knew this would happen… I knew Blaine could do it. I just hoped I would be wrong. _

With a painful swallow, Sebastian closed his eyes and mentally calculated the number of days left on his countdown. Was it still possible to make a difference? With recent…changes, would Finn still have a chance? Still so many days to go…what if it was already too late?

'Finn, get up.' Sebastian said so firmly that the sobbing Finn stifled his cries long enough to look up. 'Go get a pen and paper or some shit – and get me water while you're at it because I'm gonna talk a lot and you're going to want to get every single word down on paper, do you understand me?'

* * *

Blood was so much harder to remove from skin if it wasn't washed off straight away. It was a lesson Kurt was learning these days. Once they had got home the previous night, it was well after midnight and he had been too exhausted to remind himself of the hell he would go through by falling straight into bed. Now, in the light of day, Kurt was feeling regret as he faced the fact his skin was destined to be stained for a while.

He stepped under the flow of water from the shower head and let the warm droplets douse his raised face. He rubbed at his skin but the scarlet remains of last night's blood was determined to resist a simple shower. He recalled an injury Finn had experienced during one of his football games: a busted-up nose. Barely noticing the pain, Finn had continued playing until the game was won and only then did he remove his helmet and begin complaining. His mother, Carole, had taken him back to their home where Kurt watched her dig around her first aid kit before rubbing a cotton ball soaked with a cleansing solution on the red mess that was Finn's face. Fortunately, his nose wasn't broken and it only took about ten minutes to have him looking as good as new. At first Kurt pondered on what Carole had used – perhaps he could buy it somewhere to speed up his own cleansing process? – but his thoughts then became focused on his mind's memory of that night a couple of years ago.

Kurt could recall the orange-yellow light from the overhead lampshade, the honey coloured checked-designed of the kitchen tiles and the frayed 'GO TEAM!' hoodie Carole had been wearing. But yet…Finn. Kurt paused in his scrubbing and his brows furrowed together. Finn…

_What… What did he look like? What _does_ he look like? _

Stunned, Kurt put a hand up against the wall panel. Surely, he couldn't have just forgotten what his brother looked like. That would be impossible. Biting his lip and mentally telling himself that – of course – there's no way he had forgotten. _He's a big guy. Dark brown hair. Brown eyes. Giant head. Goofy grin. Gangly. Around six foot three inches. A little under two hundred pounds. A little podgy in areas. Strong. _The words were true but when Kurt tried to fit them together into a real memory…

_Why can't I see him?_

Beginning to get angry at himself, Kurt closed his eyes, bowed his head and repeated his description aloud. 'Finn Hudson.' He murmured. 'Big guy. Brown hair. Brown eyes. Giant head. Stupid, goofy grin. Gangly. Six feet three inches tall-'

'Baby? What are you saying?'

The sudden arrival of Blaine, who was stepping into the shower by the time Kurt turned around to face him, did not fill Kurt with the same fear which may have months ago. Instead of being worried of Blaine's reaction, Kurt immediately blurted out the reason for his upset. 'I can't remember what Finn looks like.'

Blaine's naked skin began to catch their own droplets of water as he stepped close enough to wrap his arms around Kurt's waist. 'Why are you thinking about Finn?' His question was asked in curiosity, not irritation.

'I was just thinking about the blood staining,' Kurt rambled, vaguely indicating towards his still very-stained skin, 'A-and I thought about the time Finn got himself hurt but now I can't picture his face and I'm starting to get a headache just trying to remember-'

'Shh, shh…' Blaine took hold of Kurt's damp head and silenced his words with a kiss. Kurt's speaking ceased. With a small smile of comfort, Blaine continued, 'Baby, you don't ever need to think about him again. Don't go down that road. Finn shouldn't exist. He's a past character – he doesn't matter anymore. You need to focus on your new life.' He paused. 'Our new life.'

Kurt didn't move for a few moments. He stood, one part of him still trying to fight through the cloud hiding Finn's face from him and the other carving Blaine's words into his brain as if they were gospel truth. Eventually, he nodded. 'Yeah… You're right, I'm sorry.'

'I don't want you to think about what happened before we met. I don't think about my life before you. You are my everything, my future. And I'm yours.'

Kurt nodded. 'You're mine.'

Blaine smiled but then a flicker of concern crossed his face. 'Kurt… You like how your life is now, right?'

Kurt immediately looked into Blaine's eyes. 'Yes,' he said with resolute. 'Of course I do.' His admonition was repeated in his head as well, and the phrase _I am happy now_ swirled, weaving around every inch of his consciousness. If it didn't, he might not be able to believe it. Blaine's smile returned and Kurt felt comfort. He enjoyed pleasing Blaine, especially now when it was getting easier to do. They were a partnership, after all. 'I'm sorry for thinking about the past. I only need to be thinking of the future.' That statement pleased Blaine even more, resulting in the dark-haired man's hands gripping Kurt's rear tight enough to lift him up and press him against the shower wall. The water above poured down on them and steam began to form inside their enclosure. Blaine's lips were fixed firmly on Kurt's and his wet hands slid easily from the younger man's ass down his thighs to urge them open. Kurt's body obeyed and his legs automatically wrapped around the toned waist pressing into him. His hand blindly grasped for the shower glass edge, and he used his leverage to tilt his hips to give his lover better access to his goal. Blaine had not been noticeably hard in their short discussion but, as Kurt's free hand dug nails into his back, the golden skinned Adonis's member was upright and licking its head against Kurt's ass. They hadn't had sex in almost twelve hours and the dry spell was noticeable: Blaine's hands slipped up to Kurt's hips to rub the smaller frame against himself and a guttural groan spilled into Kurt's mouth. The boy moaned in response, knowing what a good boy would do next. He rapidly jerked his hips into Blaine in body language saying _I'm ready, you don't need to wait_. Blaine needed no such assurance. After a couple of firm strokes of his dick – a half-hearted attempt at supplying a morsel of lubrication – he positioned himself and then pulled Kurt's body down onto him.

Kurt let a pained cry leave him knowing there would be no repercussions for being weak. According to Blaine, a little pain made you stronger. And Blaine seemed to like knowing he was making Kurt strong.

As Blaine repeatedly filled his body, stretching him out in a million different directions, Kurt let his head drop backwards. Once again, the harsh droplets of water from the shower head sprayed his face. _Hot, red blood spraying from the man's neck onto his crimsoning hand. _

_No_. Kurt shook his head and his soaking wet hair flew around and then clung to his skin. _This is different. This is clean water. Don't think about that. He'll know. _

Fortunately, Blaine's member slid so fluidly back inside him at the perfect angle and nudged his good spot. Rolling his hips, Kurt moaned into the water 'Stay- Stay there-!' Blaine bit at his exposed neck. His hands gripped at Kurt's waist to start the quicker and harder short thrusts reserved for when Kurt's vulnerable sweet spot was discovered. Jerked so violently that the air in his chest was knocked out with each blow, Kurt scrunched his eyes shut tight as stars began to form in his vision. '_Yes! _Oh, please, Blaine, fu-ck me-!' Hot sparks shot up his whole body, causing his toes to curl painfully and his grip on Blaine to falter. Kurt fell back against the shower tiles, eyes still closed so nothing could distract him from this feeling he was growing to not only love but need to survive.

Blaine panted quietly, his eyes focused on his lover's expression and he fought the desire to come right at that moment. The boy was utterly captivating when he was lost in it all. He knew the first time he had seen such a sight that he had Kurt completely. Before, back when Kurt only obeyed out of fear and still had enough of his own mind to be thinking about other things – _Finn_ – there was always something holding him back from getting lost in the earth-shattering fucks Blaine would bestow on him. Now, Kurt needed this to live. Blaine had got him drunk on orgasm euphoria, got him hooked on the sensations and constantly begging for another fix. Blaine was no fool: part of it would be a coping mechanism. As much as the game kills came naturally to Blaine, it was never in Kurt's pure nature and it never would be. The older male had accepted that. The pleasure Kurt would eventually get from taking lives would be - not artificial, as Blaine fully intended for the goodness to be real – but manufactured. Put into place. Always in need of maintenance. And Blaine was always going to keep Kurt well-oiled. If part of doing so happened to involve fucking the teen's brains out and screwing him like a whore whenever he pleased, then that was just a happy coincidence.

Smirking at the nonsensical words currently streaming out of Kurt's mouth, Blaine slipped his hand between them and slowly stroked Kurt's hardness. The teen bucked his hips and screamed, hitting his head on the tiles and unintentionally almost knocking his dominant partner to the slippery floor. Blaine pushed back at Kurt's spasming legs and thrust himself deeper, pressing them both up against the glass pane. Through the steamed-up surface, Blaine could see Kurt's rear side pressed up against the glass from the bathroom mirror. The boy was shaking, arms throwing themselves back in order to grab anything to help him stay at Blaine's mercy. Another stroke of fingers turned into a firm fist pump. Blaine's own dick was already strained and ready to blow. They were both so close. Blaine did not need to time anything – they were both in perfect unison. As the moment rapidly approached with each new slam of hips, Blaine kept Kurt taut on his deeply embedded dick as one hand went to town on Kurt's, his other hand grabbing Kurt by the throat so he could attack his mouth with his own. Their kiss was a mixture of biting, growling and tongue lashing until they reached their height. Kurt buckled at once, crying and his body convulsed. Blaine rode out his orgasm, lost in the steamy cloud of thick deliciousness. To prevent them falling in exhaustion and risk hurting Kurt, Blaine carefully bent his knees and sunk to the shower stall floor. He spread himself out, eyes closed and panting heavier than before. Kurt curled against his chest, his legs tangling themselves in Blaine's and his ass still very much home to the other's still very much hard dick.

The shower head continued to rain on them as if it had not realised the finale had ended. Clear water mixed with milky remains, swirling the drain. Kurt listened to the man's heartbeat. It comforted him, though he couldn't remember why he needed comforted in the first place. After a minute, Kurt pushed himself up to sit on Blaine's waist, tucking his legs in towards his thighs. He stared down. Even with those hazel eyes being closed, Kurt could feel their gazes meeting.

'I love you.' Kurt said automatically, not really hearing himself.

Blaine smiled and took his time in opening his eyes. Above him was the most stunning sight he could ever dream of seeing: lips bruised and his skin wet and shiny, Kurt's post-climax look of thoughtful innocence married perfectly with the blood stains across his naked body. 'And I…' Blaine slowly shook his head. 'Love' didn't even begin to describe what he felt. Instead of saying it, he sat up – holding Kurt in place so he didn't move off his lap – and kissed him properly. Fully. Kurt melted into his arms. Kurt liked these kisses; they were what fairy tales were built on. And just like the fairy tales, Kurt had to rely on make believe.

* * *

A.N. So I guess an apology is in order for the delay. And the depressing turn of events. Basically, all I ask is please review or PM your thoughts, but make like a Transformed Sebastian and be kind. :)


	9. Trust No One

A.N. Hello folks, I hope everyone is enjoying the start of Spring and still finding time to read my slowly-written stories on here! Just wanted to say thank you to anyone who might still be interested in my Klaine scribblings. Also, a huge thank you to whitegardenia5 who let me ramble a lot and suggested her own amazing plot points to help me get over my writer's block. It might have been another year of nothing without her help. Apologies as this is a very dialogue-heavy chapter but it is necessary as the following few will have mainly action which requires setting up.

* * *

Trust No One

* * *

_This is strange. I don't like it. _

Kurt stared, unblinking.

_I mean, it's right there. _

_Stop it, Kurt._

His fingers gripped at the hem of the mattress.

_All I meant was-_

_Stop it. You aren't fooling anyone. Get up and go find Blaine. _

_No, let me think about this._

Had Kurt not been thoroughly distracted, he might have been shocked at the silence which followed in his head. The voice didn't argue back like it normally did. His eyes narrowed on the object suspiciously, as if it were capable of exploding like a bomb. Was this…was this a test?

_I mean…has Blaine left this lying out before? Is this the first time I've noticed, or is this a new stage of trust? _

The cell phone screen reflected the light from the morning sun shining through the bedroom window. With a hesitant hand, Kurt slowly reached for the main button. It made a barely audible clicking sound as it lit up and Kurt's own face took up the majority of the home screen. Kurt couldn't remember Blaine taking that particular photo but he wasn't all that surprised to see the mirror image. No, instead, he was shocked that the smartphone seemed to require no passcode to access the main functions menu. Not daring to actually pick up the phone, Kurt nervously stood up and moved to get a better look.

_A full signal. So…does that mean I can just dial a number and it'll work? _

Blaine often used his cell phone to find out information when they drove into new areas and towns, so he must have a data plan or something.

_I could… I could call someone. I could Facebook people. I could-_

_-Don't even think it. _

_I…_

Kurt froze. The screen timed out and went back to darkness. Kurt didn't press it on again.

_I should find Blaine._

* * *

'_Sorry, Jonathan, am I right in saying that you think this revelation was _inevitable_?'_

'_That's exactly what I'm saying, Connie, and I don't know why you sound so surprised. We have been saying this since the very beginning when Hummel was first kidnapped. Look back at our segment when we first reported it and you'll hear me predicting this was going to happen unless Kurt Hummel was found quickly. I told you exactly how it would happen. Desensitisation – he would be exposed to so much violence it would lose its atrocity. Add in the threat of torture and blackmail, he would be made to replicate against his will. Next comes the desensitisation of inflicting harm. Finally, his entire basis of survival would be these 'games'. Then you have countless mental factors such as Stockholm Syndrome and, as Strentz states, the victim's need to survive is stronger than his impulse to hate the person who has created the dilemma.'_

Kurt had stopped on the stairway when he first heard the TV report. Panic had initially struck him. Who were these people who might be speaking out of turn? Was Blaine listening? He pressed himself against the wall and slid down to the hallway. Holding onto the door frame, he tentatively peered into the living room. Blaine sat on the glass coffee table with his back to Kurt. He was watching the news programme. Shoulders slack, hands leaning back to support his frame – Blaine was relaxed. That fact eased Kurt's panic, but he continued to pray that the man and woman arguing on the television would move onto another segment quickly before they said something Blaine didn't like.

'_So are you saying this need to survive is forcing Kurt Hummel to do these things?'_

'_We could only really know for sure by examining the boy in person. But my belief is no. Often, the positive attitude towards captors aren't just for show. Since captors often fear that their affection will be perceived as fake, captives eventually begin to believe that their positive sentiments are genuine.'_

'_I think it's still a huge assumption that Hummel's recent shift in character is anything other than what it was before. School reports, testimonies from family, friends, teachers – this boy was the furthest thing from violent. To believe what you're saying is to believe he is no longer the boy we all set out to find when he first went missing.' _

'_The report given by the latest victim, the young girl who died of injuries Hummel himself inflicted, argues otherwise. I know you are very skeptical of the girl's account, as are many who don't want to believe a wholesome, kind and talented youth could willfully kill. As much as you and others may hate to accept, it is now the most likely of scenarios. Is it too late to save him? It's not my place to say. Maybe. Maybe not. If it is possible, it would have to be now.' _

As if the reporter's words needed more support, the front page headline of the daily newspaper lying on the hallway table caught Kurt's eye: CAN WE TURN BACK TIME FOR HONOR ROLL KILLER?Feeling sick to his stomach, Kurt turned away. He was glad Blaine hadn't seen him: he really didn't want Blaine to know he had heard this conversation.

'_It really begs the question: If law enforcements were to find them, what would happen to Hummel? He has murdered innocent people – true, under exceptionally horrific circumstances – but does his situation excuse him from justice? And if not, is it even possible to put him back into everyday society? Or is recent revelations proof that it is too late?'_

Kurt turned. If he was careful he could go back to bed and pretend he was never here. He had barely left the doorway when-

'Kurt, come sit with me.'

The boy stiffened at Blaine's gentle call. For a brief moment, he felt the chill of fear catch his breath and ache his lungs. It got cold. The man's command drifted around his ears. Like a robot, he turned yet again and entered the living room. Blaine's eyes never left the TV, but his light fingers tapped on the table for Kurt to sit. The boy obeyed silently. A warm hand found his leg and gave it a soft squeeze. 'I expect you to always come sit with me, not hang behind. Alright?'

'Yes.' Kurt whispered. They continued to watch the report. Kurt felt his heart beat hard against his chest. Thankfully, they were no longer focusing on him as their main discussion point.

'_It seems to me the police are still not extracting all they can from possible sources.'_

'_Well, I can only assume you're referring to Sebastian Smythe, the other killer from the original murder spree who worked with 'Blaine'. I think we all predicted that he would turn on his ex-partner after he was wounded and left to die by him. But there are codes of confidentiality even among the evil of this world. Not to mention the rumours regarding the state of Smythe's health. Cambus Prison Hospital is known for being the final stop for many criminals.'_

Blaine laughed gently, causing Kurt to glance at him with wide eyes. Blaine did not seem bothered in the slightest. With a sigh, the dark-haired man picked up the remote and switched the TV off. 'Sebastian stuck in a prison hospital all this time. God, he must loath it. He hates hospital food.'

Kurt swallowed, taking the time to consider carefully what to say next. 'Do you know what the rumours are? The ones about his health?'

Blaine shrugged. 'Probably that he'll die. I doubt it, though. If he was going to do me the favour of going cold I think he would have done it by now.' With that, he stood and stretched his arms up high as he strode to the window. 'It's going to be a hot one today.' He turned and sat on the ledge, smiling coyly back at Kurt. 'Can I interest you in an ice cream date? We can even bring some back here and take it to the bedroom.'

Kurt gave the weakest of smiles. 'Don't you think we should…I don't know, lay low for a while?' His eyes flickered to the now-off television. 'My face all over the news means people will recognise me pretty quickly.

Blaine's smile faltered a little as he dejectedly accepted Kurt's point. 'The one downfall of having such a perfect face: the media love using your photos at any opportunity. And the public carve it into their minds like porn.' He approached his younger lover and took him by the chin, kissing him firmly. Kurt wondered if the edge of roughness was a minor punishment for being so recognisable. Blaine then briefly touched his cheekbone before falling back onto the couch.

As it was his face limiting their freedom, Kurt bit his lip thinking hard for solutions. 'Well, we could always just go away.' Blaine arched a questioning brow. 'You said a couple of months ago that you wanted us to travel somewhere else. Why don't we just do it?'

Blaine blinked slowly and smiled, as if he was holding back a chuckle. 'How adventurous. Where would we go, blue eyes?'

With the affectionate nickname being used, Kurt felt encouraged. He crossed the room and slipped onto Blaine's lap. The older boy wrapped his arms around his waist securely, pulling him close. 'I don't know. I've never been out of the States before. We'd be completely unknown in Europe. I've always wanted to go there.' Wistful, Kurt leaned his head on Blaine's shoulder and for once let himself recapture old dreams of walking down the ancient streets of Athens, looking up at the breath-taking castles in Romania, and strolling through the vineyards of Southern France. At one point, he had a bucket list of places to go with his soul mate but it had been long forgotten. It seemed to have died when Blaine entered his life.

Blaine hummed thoughtfully, silently taking in the boy's emotion beyond his words. Even if Kurt hadn't realised himself, Blaine could hear traces of melancholy. 'It's a pretty big continent to explore. Many romantic countries to make love to you in.' He laughed gently as Kurt tucked his head in shyness. After many moments of quiet, he finally conceded. 'Alright. Let's go to Europe.'

Kurt looked up in surprise. 'Really? When?'

'Soon.' Blaine smiled and kissed his lips, far more softly this time. 'Very soon. I can get us fake passports in a matter of days. We just have to go to one last place before we slip out of the country.'

Kurt might have queried Blaine's falsifying resources in the past, but Blaine had proven there was little he couldn't do so it was hardly worth the time it would take to ask. Instead, he tilted his head. 'Where do we have to go first?'

* * *

'I don't get it – what's so special about this place?'

Sebastian rolled his eyes, impatient. 'I don't know how many times I need to say it: _Blaine never told me why we went there_.' Oddly enough, through his frustration, the pale, dying prisoner looked more alive than he had done in months. Sitting up with the aid of propped up pillows and his hands free to rest between his knees, Sebastian continued to explain the area in more detail. 'On first inspection, it looks like a wasteland. The forest around it looks good enough, but the ground definitely had some shit going down on it at one point. In some areas, the grass is burnt black. In others, patches of weeds are taller than even you. Blaine sets up camp here-'

Finn lowered his tablet further down towards Sebastian so he could better point to the Google Maps' depiction of the area. 'I don't see any roads leading to this…field. It's out in the middle of nowhere. How am I supposed to get there – on foot?'

Sebastian shook his head vigorously. 'Jesus, no!' His follow up sigh made him seem like a parent counselling a foolish child. 'I can't stress this enough, Finn: This. Is. Blaine's. Territory. If you go there on foot, hoping for a heroic save and an escape, I promise you that you'll be dead before Blaine and Kurt even arrive.'

Finn drew back, stung. 'I'm not that big of an idiot, I won't die in a frickin' field, dude.'

'Yes, you are, and yes, you will.' Sebastian retorted strictly. 'Take a car up this route here…' His finger weaved through a thin line on the electronics' screen. 'You will probably have to spend some time clearing the way because it's an abandoned trail. It'll take a while but don't be tempted to get help. It'll be a miracle if Blaine doesn't sniff you're being there, never mind the likes of cops. After you've cleared it, it'll still take about ten minutes of careful steering but you'll be able to easily hide your car right on the field's edge. Blaine has only ever driven in this way,' His finger now jolted to the opposite side of the screen where a similar grey line wove through the digital trees. 'With any luck, you'll be able to keep yourself off his radar even after they set up camp. Then you just have to choose the right moment to act.'

Finn nodded, already plotting his actions. 'I'll wait until they're asleep, then I'll crawl up to Kurt and get him to follow me, lodge a knife in that prick's neck as well-'

_Smack!_

For a dying man, Sebastian could hit hard. Finn grabbed the back of his head where throbbing was the result of a swift whack from the other's palm. He cried out in frustrated pain, but Sebastian spoke over him. 'Moron! First off, _never_ get nearer to Blaine than you fucking need to. He can kill you in two seconds flat without a weapon. Go in their armed with one, you'd be handing over your own instrument of death, understand? He _will _overpower you. He _will _outsmart you. Get the hell out before he knows you're there. Second, do _not_ rely on Kurt following your lead. No, in fact, scrap that: don't trust Kurt at all.'

Finn scowled, nursing his aching head whilst glaring. It was hard to be listening for advice when it was riddled with insults, but his comment on his tortured brother was out of line. 'I trust Kurt with my life, asshole.'

'Then you're a bigger idiot than even Blaine thinks you to be.' Sebastian issued back with a deep frown. He shuffled back, somehow concealing the pain such movement no doubt caused him, and took a moment to regain some sense of reasonableness. 'Chances are, Kurt will think it's all a trap or a test of his loyalty and its guaranteed by now that out of fear Kurt will not betray Blaine. He'll do the opposite of what you'd want. Catch him off guard and force him away before he has the time to think. If you do…move fast. Do not stop. If Kurt gives you trouble – for God's sake, Finn – just get yourself out of there.'

'Leave Kurt?' Finn wasn't sure he understood correctly: Sebastian must know he couldn't abandon his brother. 'After all this time, all this effort and with everything to lose, you want me to leave him behind?'

The dying man sighed, his shoulders dipping. 'It might not be Kurt you meet out on that field.'

The silence which ensued was both dour yet somehow supportive. Finn circled the bed and sat on the visitor's chair to absentmindedly zoom in and out of the tablet's map. After a few minutes, one of the nurses came in to give Sebastian his pain medication. Sometimes, it was easy to forget Sebastian's condition and Finn was surprised he felt guilty at overhearing the killer-turned-aid practically beg for 'just a couple more pills' than what was permitted. Finn turned away as the nurse gently explained he was receiving the maximum dosage possible. Once she left, the mood shifted into one of awkwardness.

Eventually, Finn returned to the bedside to ask 'Can you remember anything else from when you visited this place?'

Sebastian had his head resting back, his eyes tightly shut as the medication slowly got to work. 'I remember Blaine freaking me out. I thought I was used to his weird tendencies and secret keeping, but he was hiding a shitload more.' He opened his eyes to look nostalgically out the window. 'He was…coy. Sinister, more than usual. He used to grin to himself whenever I asked him questions. Why did we come? Did something happen here? He would just…laugh to himself.' A pause as something new came to mind. 'I remember a ribbon tried to one of the tree trunks. I didn't think much of it until I pointed it out to him. He told me to ignore it, and stay close to camp.'

Finn cringed. 'Geez, didn't you call him out on how suspicious that sounded?'

Sebastian nodded. 'Of course, I did. It bugged the shit out me, too. We stayed one night and then left. No explanation. The next year, we… We had a fight.' Sebastian swallowed hard. 'I didn't see why we had to go back. I argued that it was a waste of time. He rewarded me with the biggest beat down he'd ever given me. It was one of those relentless beatings. I really thought he was going to kill me.'

'And you still went?' Finn cried, sadness filling his eyes at the thought of Blaine attacking Sebastian though he would never have admitted it.

'Without another word,' Sebastian confirmed. 'We got there. He only spoke to me when he was giving me an order. That suited me: I wasn't in any mood to talk. It was the closest I ever came to bailing on him, only couldn't because I could barely walk. I found myself distracted by that fucking ribbon again. Tied to this random tree. He saw me watching. He…told me to go get it. He said we could leave the moment I brought him that ribbon. I knew better than to go, though. The same way I didn't want to be around him anymore, I knew he felt the same way. I knew if I tried, I'd regret it. We left a couple of days later and somehow fell back into normality again. It took my third trip to actually learn why Blaine usually stuck to our camping area.'

From down the hall, a sharp door slam caused Sebastian to jump violently, breaking his concentration and replacing his pensive expression with fear. 'It's cool, dude. It's just the doctors.' Finn murmured, gently nudging the patient's leg in a vague show of comfort.

Sebastian nodded, taking a couple of steadying breaths before continuing. 'By the third visit, I knew better than to argue. As summer approached, we got ready to go. No discussion. I had resigned to this just being a thing we did. I brought some books to read to pass the time and let Blaine do his own thing. One evening, I went to take a piss in the trees nearby. It was only around fifty yards to the nearest edge of the field, so I didn't bother telling Blaine what I was doing. The asshole was watching me, anyway. And he watched when I fell face-first into this pit.'

Finn drew back. 'A what?'

Grimly, Sebastian rubbed at his cheeks, clearly wishing he didn't have to relive this particular memory. 'A pit: six-foot-deep and, aside from the mass of grass and plants that had been covering it, filled with barbed wire.' Finn gasped, looking horrified as the image in his mind began to fill in the blanks. Sebastian shook his head slightly, squeezing his eyes shut as he tried to wish away the flashbacks. 'Razor-sharp mini blades cut into me even as I was falling into the bottom. I had never felt pain like it: it was as if every square inch of me was being slit. I tried to climb out but moving only made it worse. I couldn't think straight so I didn't know which direction to grab in.'

'Could you call for help?' Finn questioned, feeling sick at the thought of a pit of barbed wire. His gaze fell on Sebastian's exposed forearms: was it his imagination or was he seeing faint gash marks on closer inspection?

Sebastian half scoffed, as if Finn had cracked a crude joke. 'I screamed. God, did I scream. I couldn't have stopped myself. Somewhere in my crazed brain, I kept chanting that I would be fine because Blaine was there. But I couldn't see him. I started crying out his name over and over. By then, I learned that if I wanted to gain some sense back, I had to be still. The pain wasn't as searing if I stayed still. I managed to keep the wire away from my eyes, but my face was cut up bad. At last, I saw him standing on the edge of the pit. I waited for him to offer his hand. But he just…stood there. He started laughing. Finally, he walked away.' Sebastian swallowed hard again and then wiped his face, which had begun perspiring at some point. When he continued, he sounded a bit more composed. 'I was there for hours. Night fell, and our fire went out, so all I could see was black. I thought he was leaving me to bleed out and die. Then, just as I was about to pass out, he just grabbed me and pulled me out. I lay on the grass until morning. Then we left. We didn't even talk about it.'

Finn sat in bewilderment. _How does a guy willingly go through that kind of treatment?_ 'And you went back the next year?'

'And the next. And the next' Sebastian confirmed. 'And that brings me to my biggest warning of all: the field isn't a wasteland. It's a fucking death-trap.'

Finn's might have thought him being over-dramatic before, but he knew better now. He winced. 'What do you mean?'

Sebastian raised his fingers to count off what he could recall. 'Snares. Bear traps. Tripwires. You name it, it's out there. Hidden. Practically invisible. Blaine set it all up before we ever met, and only he knows how to move around. Finn, I know you're trying to be the hero here, but if you don't take each step carefully, Kurt will be the last of your worries. In the dark, you have no chance. That's why you need to get there before he does. Scope the place out, learn what's there and clear as much as you can.'

Finn bobbed his head in agreement, feeling chills run up his spine as this new threat took root in his multitude of concerns. 'Okay. I will. I'll start driving out there tonight, I should get there early tomorrow morning.' With night approaching, Finn's words meant he would have to leave now. He'd have to pick up a few things and write a letter for Uncle Louis in case things went wrong. Finn stood up, nodding to himself. A mental pep talk. 'You said he arrives on the first of the month, if I get there tomorrow I'll have a few days to get prepared.'

He did not notice Sebastian's eyes watering slightly, nor did he see the multitude of emotions bubble behind those green eyes. The teen was too wrapped up in the suddenness of his plan, which the older male lying on his deathbed forgave completely. 'That should be enough time,' Sebastian spoke, his voice thick despite his attempt to sound normal. That was when Finn noticed. Sebastian smiled weakly when the teen looked back at him. 'For what it's worth…I hope you don't die.'

Finn couldn't stop the smallest of awkward smiles gracing his face. He shrugged and waved the shockingly considerate sentiment off. 'That's those meds of yours talking.' However, he knew Sebastian meant his words. He nudged the other's shoulder. 'And for what it's worth,' he repeated, 'I do appreciate all your help.' Sebastian nodded in acknowledgement. 'Alright dude, I'll see you later.' And with that, Finn picked up his things and headed towards the door to leave, as he had done every day for the past several months.

'Goodbye, Finn.'

Finn's hand froze on the door knob. The parting phrase caught him by surprise. He realised what was happening. 'Goodbye' was very different from 'See you later'. With Finn's 'See you later' came the belief that their separation would be temporary. Finn believed he would see him later. Only… Only Sebastian knew better. And if he truly wished Finn well in his upcoming feat of rescue, his goodbye meant only one thing.

Finn turned around slowly. The Sebastian he had been talking to for the last couple of hours seemed to have disappeared from the room, and in his place lay the ghostly white corpse-to-be. Finn was struck with alarm and yet he couldn't react. Sebastian smiled, and blinked slowly almost as confirmation of Finn's realisation. This was not a 'See you later' parting. This was it. This was…goodbye. 'Dude,' was all Finn could say.

'Your vast, intellectual vocabulary continues to astound me.' Sebastian chuckled. In his tone was the message: _It's okay. I'm fine._

Despite all he was put through, and despite all the asshole-ery Finn had to put up with, the teen found himself wanting to say something encouraging. He wanted to brush off the doctor's diagnosis and tell the dying man he could still beat whatever was inside him. _You've got time. I'll come back and tell you what went down out in that field, you'll see. This isn't goodbye. _But that would be a lie: Finn didn't know what was going to happen. Sebastian was already living on borrowed time, having already surpassed his doctor's estimated date of death. Did Sebastian know he didn't have long left?

'Promise me something, Finn.' Sebastian's smile dissolved into a wince. Finn took a step forward, but said nothing. 'Just promise me that, whatever happens with Kurt…don't mess up your life. Don't let what Blaine and I started derail your whole existence. Go to college. Fall in love and have a thousand kids. Be more than what we made you. If you don't, you might as well have died the first night we met. Don't have me die for nothing, alright? Promise me.'

Finn didn't react outwardly, though his heart began racing fast. _Why do I care that this is the last we're probably going to talk? What the hell is going on?_ Part of him wanted Sebastian to mock or ridicule him to make this all easier but the asshole couldn't even give him that privilege. 'Okay, I…I promise.' Sebastian looked more relaxed at that, and nestled back in his bed. Where he would stay. Finn fidgeted in agitation. 'Dude, is there anything I can do or get for you? I have some time, if you needed anything.'

Sebastian shook his head slowly. 'I'm good. What I need, you can't give me.' He chuckled to himself for a few seconds, then stopped suddenly. He looked up at Finn. 'Actually…there is something you can get me. Call it my own 'Plan B'.'

* * *

Sunset drives had fast become Kurt's most favourite activity. With summer just beginning, the air was warm well into the night meaning watching the sun sink into the glorious red sky with golden hues was as comfortable as it was stunning. The best sunset drives took place in the countryside, which just so happened to be where he and Blaine were now. Windows were down and Kurt leaned his hand out to deftly dance against the rushing air. Yellow strobes lit the leaves in the towering trees they were passing. Occasionally, field of sheep, cows or horses caught his attention. Sights like that never failed to bring a small smile. One such smile eased onto his face as he saw a fawn and its mother braving a clearing to graze on the fruit fallen from surrounding branches. Kurt tried to count the white spots on the baby's frame but they weren't close enough. Still…

Blaine's hand slipped into Kurt's, bringing the younger man to turn his attention immediately to the driver. Blaine was smiling fondly, gazing ahead. 'Remind me to take you to a zoo or something when we're able,' He squeezed Kurt's hand. 'Or get you a pet if it'll make you smile like that all the time.'

Kurt barely noticed his momentary increase in heart-rate - _It's not fear, Kurt, it can't be fear - _ reduced when he realised Blaine was not angry at him. Relaxation settled back in, or something similar at least. 'Don't take me to a zoo: I don't like seeing animals cooped up in those enclosures.'

'A nature reserve, then. Or a safari to see them in their natural habitat.'

'Yeah… That'd be nice.' Kurt turned away back to the clearing. The deer and her baby were gone.

The faint sound of the radio playing old rock songs filled the silence. Kurt wondered if they would hear much American music in the months to come. In a week, they were due to board a ferry in Florida which would take them down to Havana. Blaine had needed to duck out of the country a few times before and spoke from experience when he said slipping into Cuba was the easiest way to do it. From there, they would leisurely make their way to Mexico to catch a flight to Amsterdam. As one of the busiest and well-connected of the European airports, melting into the crowds with a whole new continent ready to be explored would give them the freedom they sought. Blaine had paid triple the cost for their fake passports in order to have the best counterfeit documents possible and have them ready almost immediately. Kurt's new passport, complete with watermarks, paper quality, holographic device and overall quality, fooled even him until he saw the written information and the updated photo Blaine had supplied to the forger. His new name was Noel Sutton. Blaine assured him, though, their new identities – Mr Noel Sutton and Mr Joseph James of Fort Wayne, Indiana - were mainly for travel purposes. Once they left the US, there was little reason to conceal their identities. Yet all of that seemed too far ahead: they still had one thing left to do before they began their journey to Florida.

The town they had been hiding out in was several hours behind them, but Blaine didn't plan on stopping for the night for a good five hours more. They had a lot of ground to travel and only a couple of days to do it in. West Virginia was beautiful this time of year, Blaine had told him. Especially in the countryside. 'So, do you like going out to this…' Kurt paused, not knowing how to refer to their destination, 'place for a special reason? Or do you just like being there for the start of summer?'

Blaine hadn't said very much on the topic, only that their journey would be almost like a pilgrimage to somewhere very close to his heart. Kurt had admittedly been a little intrigued until he found out they would be camping in a field. 'I see it like celebrating an anniversary.' Blaine mused, shrugging. 'For the last ten years I've been coming back. You could call it a religious experience for me.' At that, Blaine laughed as if he had cracked a hilarious joke.

Kurt watched his eyes sparkle and his mouth stretch into a wide grin. 'And you'd take Sebastian,' He recalled, biting at his lip. 'Did you ever tell Sebastian why you went? Is it obvious when you get there…?'

Blaine shook his head. 'No, he never figured it out, though he guessed around the clock. Sometimes he was close, but I preferred him not knowing. He wouldn't have understood.'

'And you don't think I'll understand either,' Kurt finished the line of thinking. Blaine's grin became less joyful but he didn't turn his eyes away from the empty road ahead. 'You told me all those stories before. All those half-truths. It'll be interesting, maybe I'll guess better than Sebastian did.'

'You're nothing like Sebastian.' Blaine cut in very suddenly, causing Kurt to become a little alarmed. _Shit, did I just offend him? I should apologise, before he thinks I'm being rude-_ 'Kurt, never liken yourself to him, okay?' Kurt tried to nod but he was still too nervous to respond. Blaine shook his head, eyes firmly fixed on the road, as if he were frustrated. 'I didn't trust or love Sebastian. You're my world, there aren't any secrets between us.' Kurt didn't speak, but the tiniest part of his mind – the part that liked to use the dark of night to dream of escape routes and Finn's face – retorted quietly: Of course, Blaine kept secrets. Did he not think Kurt knew? He knew all about Kurt's life, but made a game out of sharing his own by making Kurt guess which portions of his stories were true. This same thought appeared to be on Blaine's mind too. Kurt drew up his knees to his chest, feet tentatively resting on the edge of the passenger seat, and watched his partner carefully.

'Blaine…?'

'There _shouldn't_ be any secrets between us.' Blaine corrected himself, his fingers gripping and un-gripping the steering wheel. The car began to slow, and Kurt realised Blaine's foot was easing up on the gas. Even though there were no cars on this country road, the dark haired man pulled over into the dirt path hidden under the shadow of trees. Blaine rested back in his seat and then turned to look at Kurt. After a few seconds, he reached out and stroked his lover's cheek. 'You've come so far, baby, I can't keep treating you like I did before. I keep praising you, telling you you're learning and I'm proud of what you can do but really I should be celebrating how much you've changed as a person. You're my other half, now. You move, you think, you feel just as I want you to. And that's all your own doing. You did it. And I couldn't be more in love with you. So, I shouldn't be keeping anything from you.'

Kurt's eyes were wide, his mind whirling. His heart fought between wanting to feel touched and horrified. Blaine wouldn't want him to feel the latter, so Kurt chose to feel touched. 'Blaine, I didn't mean-'

'I know, but it's still true.' Blaine was resolute, his hand still cupping Kurt's face tenderly. 'I have been holding things back for no reason. Where we're going is where I built my way of life – the life I've built around you – and I'm telling you nothing about it. And I should. I think you should know about this place.'

'I want to know.' Kurt heard himself talk but did not know who was controlling his tongue. 'If it's about you and who you are, I want to know.' Blaine smiled, and somehow Kurt's lips mirrored the expression without his desire to. The younger man leaned into Blaine's touch and lightly kissed his wrist.

Blaine's grin grew, and pure adoration poured from his deep hazel eyes. He then leaned over, safety belt be damned, to melt his lips on Kurt's. It was another one of his 'Fairy Tale' kisses, perhaps the one Kurt responded to the most. Simple, yet powerful. A murmured 'I love you' passed between them. Kurt could have sworn it was Blaine speaking, but he felt his own lips move in unison. He wasn't sure who was at his controls these days, but it did make things a lot easier just to let it happen.

The birds cheeped respectfully in turn, their singing only marred by the re-starting of the car engine. Blaine pulled back onto the road and they continued their journey alongside the setting sun. Blaine wasted no time in starting from the beginning. His beginning.

* * *

A.N. Next chapter: Blaine's story, at _last!_ Please drop a review or message before you leave. This isn't goodbye, it's merely a see you later… ㈴1


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